The Memory of James
by griffonnage
Summary: A series of stories based on a significant defining moment in Daniel Boone's life that was never addressed in the TV series. The stories follow "Not in Our Stars" and occur in 1775.
1. A Conversation While Roasting Rabbits

Author's note: I'm reposting these stories so they can be together and read in the right order. If you have already read "A Conversation While Roasting Rabbits" and "Boone's Reckoning" you can skip to chapter 8 to read the last part "King and Pawn". The last part, previously named "End Game," was only on the Internet for a brief time last summer before Geocities and my website went away. I apologize for this deluge of emails to anyone that is receiving alerts on my posts. As always, comments are welcome.

**A Conversation While Roasting Rabbits**

Daniel lay on his side as he watched Mingo place the skewered rabbits on the makeshift rack of twigs over the fire. He was too tired to eat, but knew he must. They had miles to go before reaching home. Mingo knelt and blew on the glowing embers until the fat from the meat caused the fire to smoke and crackle with sparks of blue. The Cherokee poked at the fire, turned a cautious weary eye back to Daniel, then returned to his task.

"Somethin' on your mind, Mingo?"

"No. Nothing in particular."

Daniel thought back over the three day trip trying to remember what might be bothering his friend. _Did I say something that offended the Cherokee? Did I take a wrong turn?_ "Well, dad burn it, Mingo, if I have to guess... Could it be what that angry varmint said back at Salem has you treatin' me like Becky on wash day?"

"Who? I don't recall hearing anyone speak of you."

Daniel chuckled. "Unless you were suddenly struck deaf, there's no way you didn't hear the man. He bellowed like a buffalo cow calving."

"It is none of my business what the man said, but now that you mention it, I suppose I am a little concerned that it is bothering _you_. You have been unusually quiet for two days straight."

"I reckon I have been a mite on the mute side...so does that mean you miss my tall tales?" Daniel grinned with raised eyebrows.

"No! I consider it a blessing of the Creator that your mind has been too occupied in silent contemplation to conjure up your usual form of entertainment."

"Well, ain't that just the slap in the face? I guess it takes a mite less educated feller to 'preciate my story-tellin' talents. I've always been able to keep Yadkin from yawnin' and Israel from rollin' his eyes. At least I know you'll never believe the far-fetched dribble people write 'bout my exploits on the frontier."

Mingo turned a concerned face to Daniel, which made the normally buoyant frontiersman avert his eyes from the Cherokee's firm dark gaze.

Daniel sighed. "I s'pose you've every right to be asking what's a-bothering me. I don't much like my own company this evening."

"I have no expectations of being entertained, my friend."

Daniel looked steadily at Mingo who had his back turned tending the rabbits. "I'll tell you what's bothering me. The very thing that's been occupying my mind since we left Salem…"

The Cherokee looked over his shoulder at Daniel in anticipation.

"Did the man's words cause you to think twice 'bout our friendship? Did he put doubts in your head 'bout me?" Daniel asked cautiously.

Mingo's dark eyebrows dipped, which always gave him a fierce look. "Your past is no concern of mine. It certainly would never change my opinion of you as I hope my past would not alter your opinion of me. Does it bother you that Lord Dunsmore is my father?"

"No, of course not. Is that why you never told me until he rudely barged into our lives? You thought it would bother me?"

Mingo nodded.

"Well, I apologize for leavin' you to believe I would judge you by such a trivial fact. If'n I'd been concerned 'bout who sired you I'd a' asked."

Mingo wiped his hands on his blue pants and scooted back to sit on his blanket next to Daniel. "Do you want to tell me what happened? I am a good listener."

"You're too modest. I'd say the finest listener this side of the Allegany."

"You find it difficult to speak of your earlier journey through the Cumberlands?"

Daniel took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. "It's a mighty painful memory. Once it starts, it's like a flood. I don't rightly know that I can without a tankard of Cincinnatus' Blue Thunder to cry in." Daniel picked up a twig and dug into the soft dirt at his side.

"Sorrow must be released or it will eat at you from the inside like a disease." Mingo pulled his knees up and rested his sinewy bronzed arms across them. Staring into the fire, he waited quietly while his friend tried to find the words he had not ventured to utter in nearly three years.

Daniel stared at Mingo and marveled at how perfectly still and silent the man could be. _Mingo must think me a fidgeting raccoon._ He reached to his head, pulled his coonskin cap off, threw it to the ground, and then rubbed a hand nervously through his brown hair. Unconsciously, he signed in frustration, which drew Mingo's attention away from the fire for a moment, but didn't hold it.

"Why in tarnation are you so wise for your age?"

"I do not know what you mean," Mingo asked with a smile. "An Oxford education does not make a man wise. I consider you wise."

"Don't think so highly of me," Daniel mumbled. "Then you won't be disappointed some day."

Mingo turned and frowned. "Daniel, you are not yourself, today. You just sounded like me. Something is troubling you. You can tell me, or not. It is your choice." The Indian returned his attention to the fire.

Daniel rolled on his back and rested his head on his interlaced fingers. He closed his eyes and breathed in the cool night air that smelled of campfire, coffee, roasting rabbits and pines. That was all he needed to feel content most days though the memory of that fateful day on the Cumberland Trace was like a jagged black scar branded on the very core of his being. He opened his eyes and looked through the clearing in the canopy of trees above, at the multitude of twinkling stars that never failed to remind him of his insignificance on the earth. He believed it must be the purpose of those stars to remind men of their insignificance and it was a good thing he saw that view most every night before he fell asleep. He liked to believe Jim was out there somewhere watching, listening. Jim would have fallen in with Mingo like a tick to a dog. Mingo would be a friend. A friend he could tell secrets to without fear of a tattling. A friend to ask advice when a father wouldn't do. Daniel frowned at the thought of Jim asking Yadkin for that advice. Somehow, in the crazy scheme of things, that meant Mingo should know what happened to Jim.

Daniel smiled, and then began to speak, slowly. He heard his own natural drawl weighing heavy on his words as if a stranger were speaking through him. "The start of the journey was overflowin' with hope... Everyone was excited and joyful. You'd a' thought they were all headed for a county fair. Jim was beside himself with joy helpin' me guide those settlers to a new world full of promise. Many of them we counted as close friends and family. Jim collected friends as a pond collects 'squiters. That boy hopped and bobbed down the trail like a trout freed of fisherman's hook. He was a natural."

"Jim was your son?"

"Yep." Daniel coughed and cleared his throat. "James Boone. He was sixteen. A tall handsome fine boy that took to booklearnin' as easy as huntin'. Had his mother's good looks and smarts. He was already a good tracker and hunter and had covered not a few miles with me doing some market huntin'. Becky doted on him as a mother will her first-born... I chastised her for being over protective... I've never done it since. I leave the raising of the children to her now...because of Jim."

Daniel raised himself up to a sitting position then leaned back on a mossy log, stretching his long buckskin clad legs toward the fire.

"He and a friend were doing the huntin' to provide food for the trek. They would haul in huge bucks--proudly displayin' their kill like boys will. The green settlers were amazed at the size and quantity of the game. I told 'em we didn't need to haul salted meat. Fresh meat would be at every turn in the trail." Daniel smiled at the memory.

"Like father, like son," Mingo said.

"I reckon. He was most like me of all my children, much to the distress of his mother. She was angry with me..." Daniel felt a lump in his throat "...for allowin' the boys to leave the mule train to do a little scoutin' and retrieve supplies. We hadn't left Virginia—" Daniel stopped. His voice had cracked. He felt his breath leave him—and the all too familiar momentary kick of panic that it wouldn't come back.

Mingo seemed to since his distress and quietly moved forward and rotated the rabbits to allow them to cook evenly. He returned to his blanket and continued to watch the fire, poking it with a long stick to keep the flames from burning the game.

Daniel inhaled and forcibly exhaled with a sigh. "Before we got through the trace, a couple of the boys showed up in a frightful frenzy, screaming 'Indian attack.' I figured they had just seen some Indians and panicked. I took a few men on horseback to return to the scene..." Daniel stopped, breathless. He swallowed hard, rubbed his face with his hands, then stretched them out before him and saw them shaking. He let his arms fall limp to his sides.

After a long wait, Daniel continued, "I couldn't believe that I didn't hear—that it happened not three miles from camp—we heard nothin'—felt nothin'—but it was like an earthquake shook my life."

"The loss of a child is the worst affliction known to all men."

"It wasn't just death. Had a b'ar got him, I could have handled that. It was a pointless massacre of helpless young lives. We found Jim and his best friend tortured, mutilated as Indians are want to do... to their worst enemies."

Daniel saw Mingo flinch and drop his head. His friend truly didn't know the story. No one in Boonesborough had told him. Daniel felt cowardly for expecting others to tell this story for him. He swallowed and felt his voice failing him, as the words felt like barbed ice in his throat. "The marks on their bodies...the method of their death...told us it was probably Shawnee. That beautiful child...Becky's child, ripped up like... I tracked those murderers for miles in my own private angry haze, but they escaped. I couldn't help imagining Jim's last hours over and over for weeks afterwards. I would wake up in the middle of the night hearing his voice screaming for me—" Daniel clenched his eyes shut and bit his lower lip trying to fight the tears back. He lowered his head in his hands to hide them when he lost the fight. He felt Mingo's arm across his back, his steady hand squeezing his shoulder and realized his own body was shaking uncontrollably.

"I feel your pain, my brother," Mingo whispered at his ear. "Yours and Rebecca's. You and your family are as my own. I thought Rebecca an exceptional woman, but I now know she is a woman of great strength. You both are very stout of heart and mind."

"I'm amazed and befuddled every time I return home and find Becky still there," Daniel said. "Any other woman would've packed up the children and moved back to the safety of the east long ago. I kinda always wondered why she didn't just dump me and marry my brother Ned who stayed put in North Carolina."

"She loves you."

Daniel wiped his eyes with his buckskin sleeve then lifted and cocked his head. He stared at a blurry Mingo through narrowed eyes for a moment. "Now hold on there. What does an avowed Cherokee bachelor know of love?"

"I assure you I know enough to recognize it." Mingo relaxed his grip and drew his arm back.

Daniel found himself breathing easier. He was stunned that he had shared that story. The dark memory was a load he bore alone like a secret crime. The penance was silence. "Of course you do, Mingo. What was I thinking? Why being a comely single fella and all, you probably know more 'bout the adventures of love than I do. Ole' Yadkin and I was just lamentin' the other day the problems we have traveling with you. It seems, everywhere we go, people of the female persuasion can't keep their eyes off ya. Sometimes it makes Yad want to put a bag over your head. They hang on every word spoken in that deep baritone voice of yours. And if you happen to be singin', well," Daniel rolled his eyes, "they think the heavens have opened and Gabriel's come down for a visit. Don't even get me started on your obvious ability to charm Becky. Do ya think I haven't noticed?" Daniel asked with a perfectly straight face.

Mingo sat up straight and glanced sideways with big eyes at Daniel, clearly not a little concerned about where he was going with the conversation.

Daniel continued, "But, unlike you, I like to be entertained on these long journeys, so if'n it pleases you, sir, feel free to share with me the trials and tribulations of your love life, and exactly where and how you learnt 'bout love. I may be just an old married geezer to you, but I'm not too old to learn a thing or two."

"Daniel Boone, you are trying to change the subject at my expense."

"Why, yes, I am. Will you not allow me to divert our conversation from my unhappy tale? The way I see it we either gotta talk about me or we gotta talk about you and you're a curiosity that shames the cat. I've known you just shy of a year and you're still a riddle."

Mingo chuckled. "Perhaps another time, with a little help from Cincinnatus' Blue Thunder."

"Yep. I reckon we both could use a little o' that right now. I'd settle for a noggin' o' rum from anywhere."

The Cherokee reached off to the side and came back with a silver flask in his hand.

"For medicinal purposes, I presume?" Daniel asked.

Mingo nodded and removed the top. Daniel grabbed the flask and swallowed a long gulp of the liquid then returned the cap and put it down between them. "A noggin' o' rum, how convenient. That there pert near made the evenin'." Daniel licked his lips dry.

"What you described would not be the Shawnee or the Cherokee way," Mingo said. "Typically, captives are taken and held for payment when the offence is trespassing. It must have been a renegade hunting party, or a young chief in waiting, trying to prove his value to the tribe."

"It was a renegade band all right. Delaware, Shawnee and Cherokee. Led by a man I considered a friend that had shared a meal at my table with my family."

Mingo jerked his head to face Daniel in surprise.

"He went by the name of Big Jim. A Cherokee-Shawnee mix. I didn't learn that for weeks later. That's why it was two specific boys that were singled out for that special treatment of torture and mutilation. Big Jim was sendin' me, personally, a message. All I knew that day was that a silent unseen monster stalked and killed my boy. They achieved what they were after. The settlers turned back. Becky and I went through a ragin' river of emotions. Sorrow then anger, then sorrow ag'in, then cold dead silence. The people had sold their land, their homes. They had nothin' to return to. Most hated me and those that didn't, pitied me. I had failed them. I had failed as a father. What kind of a father would allow that to happen to his son?" Daniel looked into Mingo's startled eyes, their deep brown color reflecting the firelight, and realized he had uttered a tirade of rage. He dropped and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mingo. It's my cross to bear."

"And a risk you take when you have children, is it not?" Mingo asked. "From the day they are born you must worry about what might befall them."

Daniel grinned at his friend. "Now, I didn't tell you that story to give you an excuse for not havin' children. Becky will have my hide. She tells me almost every day I'm home that there ought to be more of you in this world. You don't want to disappoint Becky do you?"

"Becky may have a long wait." Mingo laughed. "Israel will give her children before I."

"Don't wait 'til I'm too old to enjoy them. I want to spoil them rotten."

"As payback for my spoiling of Jemima and Israel?"

"Yes, siree. That's what uncles are for." Daniel laughed with Mingo at what each knew was Mingo's role in the Boone family.

"Daniel, you could not have foreseen such a barbarous cowardly attack. Only a coward would kill a sixteen-year-old boy in such a manner. You took the same risk you asked those settlers to take. They have no right to judge you as harshly as that man in Salem."

"It was the worst day of my life, and the worst day of his life. The other boy singled out to be tortured was that man's only son."

"Did you bury James there where he fell?"

"Yep. I have visited the grave once. Animals had disturbed it, so I dug 'em up and buried 'em deeper. Both boys are buried together in that grave, wrapped in a blanket."

A loud screech penetrated the infinite dark night that enveloped the two men. Daniel jumped, and then chuckled. "Those ornery critters never fail to make me jump."

"The screech owl is interested in our rabbits. So, what made you return, to try again here in Kentucky?" Mingo asked.

"You told me once that if'n a warrior is injured in battle, he must quickly arise to fight ag'in, or he'll never do so. Isn't that how you live your life?"

"Yes. I believe that is true."

"I had to try ag'in and succeed for the memory of Jim, and to live on for my other children, for Becky. I believe if I hadn't returned to cross those mountains, I couldn't have lived with myself. Jim would've died in vain. Now, at least, I can say his loss has brought freedom to many. People like me, with no inheritance of land or fortune. Even the lowest of outcasts, the dog kicked a thousand times, can find a new start here. It's a place for them to raise a family and hold their head high with no one to tell them they cain't or they ain't of the right class."

"Kentucky means freedom to you?"

"Yep. Isn't it the same with you?"

"I agree that English custom and class is very deterministic. I would not trade my Cherokee life for it, but there are responsibilities that come with freedom."

"Yes, of course. Jim's death taught me a very hard lesson—"

A wolf howled on the ridge above them. Daniel looked back over his shoulder to catch the view of the animal's silhouette against the moon. It was an awesome sight and sound in the forest that he had come to welcome as a comforting gesture. A salute from one tribe to another.

"Brother wolf knows we are roasting rabbits. He has the wind of us." Mingo said.

"And an Indian huntin' party will know why brother wolf howls," Daniel said. "To live as free men on this land we must respect and honor our neighbors and learn to live together. All life is interdependent out here. Mingo, I often think on how it might have been—had I done this or that differently. Perhaps I could've spared Jim had I met Blackfish beforehand, not as a trespasser but as a neighbor. I have learnt a lifetime of knowledge from my Indian friends as well as my Indian foes." Daniel slapped Mingo on the back, startling him. "Isn't that true?"

"Of course, it is true. I still consider you a wise man, Daniel. Wiser than your years. I am proud to call you brother."

Daniel's jaw dropped as he looked at Mingo incredulously. He slung out his arms and faced his friend directly. "Even after I've just described for you the failure of all failures?"

"I do not see it as you do. That experience has made you stronger and wiser. Most men would have run like scared rabbits from the dream you follow."

"Then I'm as foolish as the rabbit that runs and runs only to come full circle back to his killer."

Mingo sighed. "You are being too hard on yourself. Menewa, the Cherokee, sold you the land. Did he not warn you of the Shawnee's feelings towards it?"

"He told me it was a fine piece of land, but I might find itdifficult to live on." Daniel chuckled. "My joy at havin' the signed treaty in my hand prevented me from probin' the meanin' of his words. I have since come to the realization that he sold me the land so that he might have the white settlers as a buffer 'twixt Chota and the Shawnee."

"No one with the responsibility of thousands of lives acts without some degree of self interest."

"Very true, my friend. I don't blame the Cherokee for Jim's death. Don't trouble yourself on that account." Daniel turned from Mingo to the fire. "But I will blame a certain Cherokee if those rabbits burn. I'm starved."

Mingo jumped up and deftly saved the rabbits from the fire.


	2. Boone's Reckoning 1

**Boone's Reckoning**

In the cool crisp of a moonlit December twilight under a cobalt blue sky, Daniel Boone loped through the dark shadows of a wood of ancient trees. With his flintlock gun cradled in his arms, a catch of game tied to a hemp rope across his back, he made no sound, but the soft crunch of fresh pine needles under his boots. The tall spruce pines rustled and moaned, swaying above his head in the cold wind urging him onward to the warmth of his hearth and the soft down bed that awaited him. The long hunter had been gone from home too long, longer than he planned or wanted to be away from his family. It worried and nagged his mind like a jagged splinter in the skin three days old.

He climbed the small rise that stood above his farm, and then eased down the moonlit side. When the cabin came into view, Daniel stopped cold. His jaws clenched, his hand moved to the trigger of his gun, his eyes darted over the scene before him as a deer alert to danger. Standing on the well-worn path, he waited for the deep voice of his native friend Mingo to greet him from the dark shadows; the man he trusted to watch over everything he held most dear in his absence. "Mingo?" he whispered. The silence of the surrounding wood made him shudder.

He gazed with longing upon the small farm rendered in shades of cool blue by the full moon and edged with the white of first snow. As familiar as his own hand, but something was missing. The lantern on the porch was dark that his wife Becky left lit when he was expected. Only the smell of burning wood and the wisps of blue smoke curling from the chimney, gave signs of life within the log structure.

Daniel edged to the cabin, staying in the shadows. He stepped on the porch and flinched at the groan and creak of the soft wood beneath his boot reminding him he had failed to replace those boards as promised, going on three months. He heard the wood latch rise and then the heavy door opened throwing a beam of warm light that engulfed him. The familiar face of his wife, though shadowed in orange hues by the candle light she held, gave him a momentary measure of warm relief.

"Dan, thank God you're home," Becky said with a stifled sob.

"What's wrong? Are the children—"

"No. The children are fine."

"Where's Mingo?"

A small white head forced itself between Becky and the door. "Pa! The pirates took Mingo!"

Daniel smiled. Another one of Israel's pretend games no doubt. His boy had an imagination like no other.

"Israel," Becky said, "get back in bed."

"But, Ma?"

"No 'buts' young man." With pursed lips, eyes unblinking, Becky punched out her left arm, forefinger extended towards the loft.

A hint of melancholy arose within Daniel. He felt as an intruder outside looking in. Quickly tamping down the lonely feeling to the place where he had learned to live with it, he swallowed a moan. He had only himself to blame, and the lonely way of life he had chosen--the long hunter.

"Ah, shucks, Ma." Israel bent his head and trudged back to the ladder that led to the loft.

Becky pressed her fingers to Daniel's chest. "Stay here, Dan." She stepped outside and closed the door behind her. Holding the lamp in one hand, she pulled her shawl close at her neck.

The weary frontiersman reluctantly slipped the butt of his gun to the porch and leaned on it.

Traces of tears on Becky's soft cheek glistened in the lamplight. Daniel waited quietly for her to explain, though he longed to hold her close and kiss her soft lips. It puzzled him that she would keep him outside. Such a cold reception was not Becky's way.

"Mingo is gone, Dan," Becky said with a shiver. "Five men came this morning and took him away. They were foul men with wickedness in their voices."

Daniel stood erect, alarmed at Becky's words. "River pirates?"

"I don't know. They looked like animals."

"Did he know them?"

"No. He said he had never seen them and didn't like their looks. I tried to keep him from leaving the cabin, but he would have none of it. He made us hide in the root cellar."

"Were they white men? Did they say what their business was with Mingo?"

"I couldn't be sure of their race. They had hair on their faces, hideous strange clothing and swords. Best I could tell they wanted him to guide them to Shawnee Town."

"Shawnee Town? Mingo wouldn't go there of his own free will."

"That's what's so perplexing. Dan, I think they would have taken the children and me as well, if they had found us. We heard them marching about the cabin over our heads, cursing... When we returned to the cabin, they had left a foul odor behind. I feared to leave all afternoon and wouldn't let the children go outside. I pictured those beasts surrounding the farm. Oh, Dan, what does it mean? Mingo going to the Shawnee? They will kill him."

Daniel hoisted up Tick-licker and felt the stiffness in his weary body. He put his hand to the small of his back and stretched backwards to get the kinks out. "Well, I reckon I need to go after them. I'll head to the fort. See if anyone's seen any strangers. Only Cincinnatus knew that Mingo was here."

"You need supplies and rest."

"I can get both at the fort. I'll send Cincinnatus back here to stay until I return." Daniel reached his arm around his trembling wife and pulled her close. For a moment, she felt small and frail under his large hand like a lost bluebird in the snow—as he had known her when they first met—his little girl. He kissed her forehead and rubbed her back. Becky shook with her sobs. "Don't fret now," he whispered in her softly scented hair. "Nothing good comes of fretting."

"Dan, I'm afraid for you and Mingo."

"Now, Becky, there you go a-worrying afore you know all the facts. Perhaps they're creditors come to collect on a debt and they're just holding Mingo as collateral."

Becky pushed back and slapped her tall husband's chest, startling him. Her blue eyes sparked with fire from the candlelight. "Daniel Boone, how can you jest?"

"Ah now, Becky, I'm worried about Mingo, too, but he and I have been through many a scrape and we're both still walking this earth. Providence will take us when it's our time and not a day sooner." Dan reached out and smoothed Becky's hair, but her eyes remained angry. He sighed in resignation. "Go back inside, hon. You're freezing. Give me that lamp. I'm going to take a look 'round."

Becky handed the lamp to Daniel. "I believe what you say, Dan, but sometimes I think you test the Lord's will."

"Now hold on there, Becky, don't be getting all high and mighty on me. I was only trying to tease you out o' your worry. I never purposely set out to get myself kilt for goodness sake. Would you have me not go after Mingo just to save my own skin?"

Becky dropped her head. "Of course not, Dan. You must. It's just that…you've been gone so long. I've missed you. The children have missed you and now…I think those beasts that took Mingo are out to get you and it's not money they want, it's blood—" Becky's voice broke. She placed her hand to her mouth and whispered, "I don't know how much longer I can live like this."

"Becky? What—"

"I'm sorry, Dan." Becky wiped the tears from her eyes and sniffled. "This is no time for me to torment you. Go—go help Mingo if you can. He's family." Becky put her hands to her face and broke into sobs again. "Oh, Dan, the thought of our dear Mingo in the hands of those beasts."

Daniel set his gun against the wall, hung the lamp on a nail, and wrapped his arms around his wife. He almost wanted to cry with her just because she was so overcome, but he didn't share her fear. Mingo was strong and smart and not that easy to take down or hold down for long. Becky had never seen the man in a fight and Daniel had wrestled with that Cherokee on more than one occasion.

"Becky, you've just been letting your thoughts go where they shouldn't go. Try to put it out o' your mind and get some sleep, all right?"

Becky pleaded with teary eyes as she fumbled with the top button on Daniel's fur-lined coat—the one that would never stay buttoned. "Please ask the men at the fort to help you. Yadkin is there. I know you don't feel it is right to do so, but you must this time. Accept their help if they offer it. You can't do this alone, Dan."

Daniel picked up his gun. He held Becky's small hand in his own for a moment then released her. He grabbed the lamp and stepped off the porch. Becky's words lingered in his mind …I don't know how much longer I can live like this…. He turned as his wife opened the door and stood in the dim orange light from within. Her silhouette reminded him that chasing after Mingo in the middle of the night was not the homecoming he had hoped for. "Becky?"

"Yes, Dan?"

"I've missed you and the children, too. You know that don't you?"

"I know, Dan. I'm so frazzled. Don't mind my words. Go now. Do what you must..."

"Keep the door barred. Don't open it for anyone but Cincinnatus."

Becky frowned with squinted eyes. "Of course, Dan."

* * *

Daniel entered the warm smoke-filled tavern and found Cincinnatus talking with a couple of strangers. His old friend, Yadkin, stood at the bar nursing a tankard. The tavern had the usual contingent of single men sitting about having their supper and yapping idlers. He knew them all. Cincinnatus glanced at Daniel and waved. "Be right with ya, Dan'l."

The gray-fringed tavern keeper turned back to the strangers, who looked to be city dwellers out for a hunt. "What did you say those fellers looked like, Dr. Cleves?"

"Well, sir, for aught I know, they were gypsies or…pirates. Colorful bands of cloth adorned their heads and gaudy clothes their bodies. Their faces were unshaven. Short swords swung from their hips. Some had large black boots; others were barefoot in the dead of winter. They smelled like the devil. It was not a sight I expected to behold in the middle of the Kentucky woods. I dare say it caught us quite off guard." The stranger chuckled. His voice carried the lilt of a Virginian.

Cincinnatus rubbed the gray whiskers on his chin. "There were a couple of strangers here this morning, but they didn't look like what you describe. Those fellers you're describing sound like river rats—lowest form of human in these parts. The men that came in this morning were a couple of clean-shaven city gents just like you two. They were looking for guides, didn't say exactly why. An older man and a youngin' about eighteen I'd say. I sent 'em out to the Boone cabin to talk to Mingo."

Daniel stepped to the bar. "Cincinnatus, you ever seen those men before?"

"One of 'em looked familiar like someone I've seen in Salem on occasion. He said his name was Breeden and that he knew you from way back."

Daniel's knees buckled, his weary legs gave way but he caught himself by the elbows on the bar.

"Dan'l, you all right?" Cincinnatus scurried out from around the bar, grabbed the tall frontiersman by the waist and led him to a chair.

Daniel took a deep breath. "Yeah, I know Breeden all right." He looked around and saw all eyes upon him. "I guess I'm just a mite tired."

"Well, I reckon so," Cincinnatus said, "you've been gone for days. What happened to ya?" Cincinnatus hurried back around the bar and poured a tankard of ale.

"I had to go farther than I expected to get enough food to bring back to Becky. I couldn't come home empty handed."

Cincinnatus returned with a pewter tankard. Daniel took it cautiously with both hands brushing his friend's hand. He set the drink on the table and stared at it.

"Dan'l your hands are like ice," Cincinnatus said. "How thick of me, I'll get you a hot rum." Cincinnatus scurried off again to make the rum. He called out over his shoulder, "You been walkin' all day and night?"

"Yep. I had to get home…but it wasn't soon enough." Daniel dropped his head into his hands and leaned his elbows on the table. He felt the walls of the tavern moving in.

Dr. Cleves leaned over him. "You appear quite fatigued, sir, if you don't mind my saying. I am a doctor of medicine."

The man's words were muffled to Daniel, as his head was pounding, but he caught the end. "A doctor you say? That's a good thing to be. We could use a doctor 'round here. Nearest one is in Harrodsburg…"

"We were just this moment, before you entered," Dr. Cleves said, "warning the proprietor that there was riff-raff in the area. We encountered them at a creek south of here. They had a native bound to a tree. It appeared that they were taking turns beating on him. Our appearance set them in agitation. They turned and advanced upon us, berating us with profanity, firing upon our backs. Percy came close to having his head blown off. Their monstrous growls and profanity yet ring in my ears." The doctor put a hand to his breast and sighed. "I need scarce say, it gave us both quite a fright."

"You're telling the right man there, Dr. Cleves," Cincinnatus called out. "That's Daniel Boone. He's our magistrate."

"So you are the famous Daniel Boone?"

Daniel looked up with weary eyes trying to focus on the older white-haired gentleman, but before he could answer, the man continued, "My name is Dr. Meriwether Cleves and this is my nephew, Percy. We reside in Williamsburg. Percy just completed his education at William and Mary, so I thought a romp in the wild would make a worthy memory to mark the momentous occasion. Thought we would come and check out this Kentucky that's been the talk of the town since you blazed the trail here. We were told it was the preeminent hunting country in the colonies."

Daniel reached out and shook each offered hand. The hands were soft, the handshakes limp. The men wore fine English hunting attire. "Glad to meet you, Dr. Cleves, and you as well, Percy. Welcome to Boonesborough. I thank you for the information. Can you show me on a map where you found those fellers and that native?"

"Certainly." Dr. Cleves reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a folded map.

"It do sound like a passel of snakes. You're not pondering going after 'em, are ya Dan'l?" Cincinnatus asked.

"Yep."

"Why in blazes would you do such a dad-blame fool thing in the middle of the night after you just got home?" the tavern keeper asked.

"That's Mingo they've got."

Yadkin spit out his mouthful of rum and turned to Daniel. "Mingo?"

Cincinnatus' face turned white. "Oh, my God." He sat down at the table across from Daniel with the rum forgotten in his hand. "I sent them out to the cabin."

The weary frontiersman gripped his old friend's arm. "It's all right, Cincinnatus. You had no way of knowing their true purpose. It was just a deception played upon you by a clever man."

"You shan't face those men alone, Mr. Boone?" Dr. Cleves asked. "Why there are more than a dozen of them and they are every bit as ferocious as a pack of wolves. Percy and I shall attend you, show you where we found them bivouacked and fain be of some assistance."

Daniel caught Yadkin rolling his eyes. "Thank you for the offer Dr. Cleves, but I can't let you risk your lives." He lowered his head. "This is my fault. Those men are after me and using my friend as bait. I can't ask anyone to risk his life to solve a personal problem."

"What are you talking about, Dan'l?" Cincinnatus asked.

"Breeden and Dan'l go way back, Cincinnatus," Yadkin said, "to the Carolinas and before. Breeden's a thiefin', lyin', murderin' Indian killer—"

Daniel closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. "Ahner Breeden. The son of a wealthy tobacco planter, gone bad. He's got an old score with me. He blames me for the death of his son…in an Indian attack on the way to Kentucky. The Indians slaughtered his son, but they did the same to my boy, James. The man wasn't there, but he directed his anger at me. I was the guide. I was supposed to get those people here safely—all of them. Breeden was the evil his son was trying to escape…"

"What do you mean, Dan'l?"

"That tale'll have to wait, Cincinnatus. I've got to help Mingo. I hope to God it's not too late."

"Dan'l, what are you going to do?" Cincinnatus asked. "Just go let 'em kill ya? That won't save Mingo."

"If I could get Breeden by himself, we could have it out once and for all…"

"You have your family to consider," Cincinnatus said.

Daniel met his friend's worried eyes. "That man ain't going to leave my family in peace."

"There must be more to their grievance, Mr. Boone," Dr. Cleves said. "Those men were exceedingly angry. I do not see how they could all embrace such animosity for you. You would have thought they were guarding gold."

Daniel rubbed his temples trying to rid himself of the sudden pounding headache that had overcome him. "My guess is they were putting on a show to get you to come here and tell me what you saw. Did you overhear any of their conversation?"

"Yes. They wanted the native to take them to what I think I heard as 'the Shaw-nay'? He was refusing to do so. Is that a native tribe of the region?"

"They say anything about why they wanted to go to the Shawnee?" Daniel asked.

"No. To tell you the truth I heard that native's speech and was stunned. He did not sound like any Indian I have known—"

"He sounded like you, or any friend of yours in Williamsburg, didn't he?"

"Yes, perhaps a bit more northern, though. I have to admit, I was momentarily captivated by his voice, which almost resulted in my death."

Daniel chuckled. "It's Oxford, England. He was educated there."

Dr. Cleves jaw dropped. "Well, isn't that fascinating?"

"I've always thought so," Daniel said with a smile.

"Is he a friend of yours?" the doctor asked.

"Yep. A friend, no—a brother, really."

Dr. Cleves smiled at Percy. "See there, the man has made friends of the savages, and turned them to good purpose, just as the legends have told us."

Daniel reached back and rubbed the back of his neck, sure that he had felt his hair rise at the stranger's words. "Dr. Cleves, Mingo was a good man when I met him. If anything he has made me a better man."

The doctor swooned over Daniel. "Oh. Mr. Boone, I have misspoken and offended you. Please accept my deepest apology. I assure you I meant no disrespect towards you or your friend. It is just my ignorance—why I have nothing but ardent admiration for the natives of this land and the brave men and women that have struggled to tame—"

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about, Doctor," Daniel said as he patted the doctor's hand that had found its way to the frontiersman's shoulder. "I guess I'm being a mite touchy. Let's take a gander at your map."

"Of course, Mr. Boone." Dr. Cleves unfolded the fine parchment map and laid it out with care before Daniel. He pointed out the trail where they came across the men with Mingo.

"That's Bear Run creek, the other side of Hackberry Ridge," Daniel said. "Bear Run joins with Tate's Creek then heads northwest. That trail leads to Shawnee country."

"Maybe he thinks Mingo is a Shawnee," Yadkin said as he joined Daniel at the table and stood over him to look at the map.

Daniel wiped the sweat from his brow. He felt as if he was suffocating in the close quarters of the tavern and the people surrounding him. The bleak reality of the situation was settling in on him. Breeden was everything that Yadkin had said, _a thiefin', lyin', murderin' Indian killer_— Yadkin's words repeated over and over in Daniel's head, making him feel queasy sick. He was going to find Mingo dead or worse. He had to get moving before his fatigue and despair took over to render him impotent.

"Dan'l," Yadkin said, "no matter what their business with the Shawnee, it cain't be good. A bunch o' yahoo sailor pirates, or whatever they are, out in the woods might just touch off the Shawnee war to end all wars with Boonesborough the battleground."

Daniel winced at Yadkin's words, and braced for what he knew was coming.

A large-set man in the back of the room stirred. "What's this about a war, Boone?"

"Nothing to get in a bother about, Ned," Daniel said. "Not yet anyway."

"Your injun done got himself tangled up with the Shawnee has he?"

"No. An old friend of mine has come for a visit."

The man growled back, "Boone, seems like your personal problems always become our problems."

The other men in the tavern made sounds of agreement but averted their eyes from Daniel.

Cincinnatus stood up angry and faced the men with his fists on his hips. "Now see here, you men either volunteer to help Dan'l or mind your own bee's wax. You got no right to chastise, not one o' ya. Dan'l here would do for you if'n one o' your kin was taken by outlaws."

"That injun ain't Boone's kin. He's a Cherokee. Let the Cherokee save him."

A fist came down on the table before Daniel causing the tankard to jump. "You're all nothing but a bunch o' yellow-bellied cowards," Yadkin exclaimed in his slow drawl. "Dan'l, I'm goin' with you. I was headed back to Salem, but ain't no reason I cain't go with you instead."

"Yadkin, you wouldn't be admitting to a fondness for Mingo would you?" Daniel asked.

"Ah, now, that edjee-cated Cherokee grows on you all right, but I cain't let anything happen to you. You owe me near five dollars for our unexpected expenses in Salem last month."

"Suit yourself then." Daniel smiled at his friend. He knew Yadkin was covering for what he felt was an unmanly weakness to care about anyone. A thought raced across Daniel's mind that caused his heart to beat rapidly. "Yadkin, I'd rather you take a couple of canoes north on the river to where Tate's Creek joins the Kentuck. That trail from Bear Run crosses the river at that point. If I know Mingo, as long as he's a-breathing, he'll be taking those men the long hard way to Shawnee Town if not downright leading them in circles. The river is deep at that point with a deceptive treacherous undercurrent and a 400-foot cliff on the other side—a dead-end. Mingo would tell 'em it was fordable."

Yadkin nodded understanding. He frowned and gripped Daniel's shoulder. Then he bent down and spoke quieter than Daniel had ever heard Yadkin speak. "You sure you don't want me to go with ya? That's Mingo, Dan'l. What if…"

Daniel looked up into the trapper's concerned blue eyes. "I'll be all right, Yad. If you want to help, just do what I ask. If I flush 'em your way, you'll have your hands full, but if I fail, you're Mingo's only chance of being saved. You understand?"

Yadkin bit his lower lip and nodded.

Daniel stood and lifted Tick-licker to his shoulder. "Cincinnatus, I'll require some provisions. Can you put together a haversack for several days journey?"

The tavern keeper wrinkled his brow in worry. "Of course, Dan'l. You want me to stay with the family?"

"I'd be much obliged. Please don't tell Becky and the children everything you know. 'Specially don't mention the name Breeden. And if I don't return…"

Cincinnatus shook his gray head and beat his fists against his legs. "Yes, Dan'l, I know, but stop talking like that for Pete's sake. I feel awful about this. I ought to know a character better than that. I don't see how they had me so dad-blamed fooled."

As Daniel waited for the gear, Percy said in a whinny small voice, "Be wary of the wolves, Mr. Boone. They followed us all the way here. We saw their yellow eyes blinking in the forest."

Daniel turned, smiled and arched his brows, seeing Percy for the first time as a tall thin cut of a boy about Jemima's age. A tongue-tied scholar on a visit home from school. If anyone needed protecting in Kentucky, it was Percy Cleves—a strange lost bird. "They're hungry," Daniel said. "You probably noticed the game was a little less plentiful than the legend of Kentucky led you to believe."

"We didn't come across anything worthy of a shot," Dr. Cleves said.

"You see on my back all the game I could scare up in three weeks of hunting. A few rabbits and quail. The cold and the settlers' fondness for rabbit stew have depleted the wolves' food supply to near nothing."

Percy shivered. "I dare say I would not want to become their dinner. They would have you half torn up before you died."

"You men are new to the woods?" Daniel asked.

Dr. Cleves smiled sheepishly. "I suppose you can spot what you call a 'greenfish' two miles away, Mr. Boone."

Yadkin threw his blond shaggy head back and bellowed in laughter. "Greenfish? Now ain't that enough to make a dog laugh—"

Daniel stared Yadkin down. The big trapper dropped his head, pulled his cocked hat down over his face and hugged himself as he tried not to burst out laughing all over.

Dr. Cleves did not seem to notice Yadkin's discomfort—he went right on talking. "The only creatures that might bite you in the woods about Williamsburg are the squirrels and they are not so inclined, though they do have a fierce bark."

Daniel almost laughed but managed to contain it. "Please don't take offense, Doctor," he said, "I don't mean none, but you really ought to have a guide when you go a-huntin' in these Kentucky woods."

"Yes, Mr. Boone, I am in full agreement. Percy and I have learned that lesson the hard way. I thought maybe there would be some danger of an altercation with Indians or wild beasts. That rare but rewarding experience that makes the heart beat wildly in the breast. I thought it would be advantageous to young Percy here." Dr. Cleves raised his hand in the direction of his nephew and looked as if his meaning ought to be clear. "I never considered the possibility of white men savages."

"You two best stay here at the fort till I get back," Daniel said.

Daniel put the haversack strap over his head and shoulder. He tipped his coonskin cap at the strangers. "Good meeting you fellers. When I return I'll buy you a round of drinks. I've a hankerin' to hear the news up Williamsburg way, if that's all right with you?"

"We would enjoy that very much," Dr. Cleves said with a smile. "Oh, and Mr. Boone?"

Daniel turned.

"Take care out there. May God go with you."

"I'll give that a hardy second," Cincinnatus said.

The tall long hunter nodded then pushed open the heavy wood door of the tavern allowing a swirl of cold wind to rush in and ruffle Percy's feathered blond hair. He ducked under the doorframe and slammed the door shut behind him.

* * *

"There goes the bravest man you will ever meet, Percy," Dr. Cleves said to his companion.

"Yes, sir, I hardily agree, Uncle Meriwether."

Dr. Cleves turned a narrow-eyed frown upon his nephew who was hugging himself.

"Mr. Yadkin," Dr. Cleves exclaimed. "Percy and I shall accompany you and assist in your endeavor."

Percy turned astonished wide blue eyes upon his uncle.

Yadkin studied the two overly dressed Virginians. He took note of their shiny new leather hunting boots, their woolen coats, matching vests and scarves. Their cocked hats of fine mink. "The last thing Dan'l needs is a couple o' greenhorn dandies runnin' 'round in the woods when he's a-trackin'. You two are gonna have to take your ad-VEEN-ture somewhere else."

"Mr. Yadkin, I can assure you, sir, that Percy and I are each quite skilled with a rifle. We have both served in the Virginia militia."

"So you can march in formation, but can you paddle a canoe?" Yadkin asked.

"Certainly. We have a canoe tied at the dock behind this fort."

"All right then. 'Natus, you still got them turkey feathers, red paint and wampum you so foolishly traded your Blue Thunder for?"

"Sure do. Why?"

"I'm thinkin' me and these boys need us a _de_-sguise if we're gonna paddle north on the Kentuck. I cain't take these peacocks out there to be plucked like roastin' hens now can I?"

Cincinnatus put his hand to his chin and looked over Percy and Meriwether. "Well, I reckon not, Yadkin. Let me see what I can fetch up from my storeroom."


	3. Boone's Reckoning 2

**Boone's Reckoning**

Mingo tensed as he anticipated another cuffing. His face was numb from the beating. He was falling into blackness; his mind struggled to scramble back towards the light.

"You will take me to the Shawnee or die here and now!"

The angry man's color fluctuated from a tanned brown to blood red every time he spoke. Hate emanated from him like a blazing fire. The eyes, bloodshot and ice blue, reminded Mingo of men he had known on the streets of London. The men that would slit your throat in a dark alley for the few coins in your pocket. Yet this darkly handsome man with gray hair at his temples wore fine clothes and leather boots and carried himself like a wealthy plantation owner. The lilt in his voice was unmistakably Carolinian. "So kill me. I will not take you to the Shawnee. I am a Cherokee. You are a fool—"

Another slap cut Mingo off. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. The Cherokee knew he was going to die, had resigned himself to it, but he had to hold out somehow, to delay…. An attack on the Shawnee by white strangers would touch off angry reprisals that would place his friends in Boonesborough in jeopardy. Mingo hoped the gunfire earlier when hunters in the forest surprised the men would at least get the word back to the fort that they were here.

"You sure do talk grand for a yellow boy. That's what I heard about Boone's Indian. I was told you were half-English. Educated at Oxford." The man laughed. "What a waste of a fine education."

Mingo glared back wishing to cut the man with his eyes. He could only see the hulking form before him clearly with one eye; the other was blurred by blood and throbbed. The native was seated, tied to a tree. He felt the heavy ropes that bound him cutting and burning his body. He flexed his muscles against them in angry frustration. "You are going to have to kill me. If you don't, I will most assuredly hunt you down and kill you."

The man huffed and turned away to speak in a whisper to his companions. Mingo couldn't hear them, but the occasional sharp glance his way told him he was the subject of their conversation. He didn't know the purpose these men had with the Shawnee, but he recognized the nameless leader—a man filled with hate for Daniel Boone.

A distant forlorn howl arose from the dark making the strange men restless. Mingo heard words of fear nearby—quickly hushed by the leader. The men were apparently strangers to the wilderness who knew not the cause of the wolf's howl. Mingo smiled to himself. He would end his days as a repast for a hungry wolf pack. It was likely that lone wolf had already smelled his blood and was announcing to the pack that a banquet was about to be served up.

The Cherokee decided he had nothing to lose and ventured a question, "Will you not at least tell me your name and your purpose with the Shawnee?"

The leader of the group turned and marched back. "Why don't you show me the courtesy of your disinterest? That way, I won't have to kill you because you know too much."

Mingo stared at the man and waited for his answer.

The leather-skinned man scoffed, arched a dark eyebrow and curled his thin upper lip at the corner. "The name's Breeden." He crossed his arms over his broad chest and stuck out his clean-shaven chin as if that was all that needed to be said to explain his purpose.

"Sorry, I never heard of any Breeden," Mingo said.

The muscular Breeden launched his leg with a violent jerk and kicked Mingo in the side. Mingo heard the crack of his ribs. He doubled over with the sharp pain—his lungs emptied of air.

"You heard of me now, boy!"

"Aaahg…" After Mingo caught his breath he asked, "Why are you here?"

"An affair of commerce has brought me to Kentucky, which is none of your concern." The southern gentleman turned away as if finished with Mingo. He stood with his back to the native, his hands gripped behind him. After a minute, he turned around and murmured, "You ought to know who I am as you are such a good friend of Daniel Boone. I'm sure he has told you all about me. Let me help you recollect what perhaps you've forgotten. My son, Tom, listened to Boone's talk about the beauty and the wild freedom waiting for anyone brave enough to venture west to Kentucky. Tom answered the call, but do you know what it got him?"

Breeden didn't wait for an answer. He thrust his face within inches of Mingo's. His unblinking blue eyes were like daggers staring the Cherokee down; his hot breath brushed the native's chilled skin making him flinch. The discomfort reminded Mingo of his father's blistering scoldings. Breeden growled through clenched teeth, "I'll tell you what it got him—trussed up on a tree, and slit from stern to bow!"

Mingo couldn't hide his recognition of the ill-fated trip Daniel had made to Kentucky with a group of green settlers. He knew the Boones had lost a son and many others in an attack by renegade Indians. It was a topic neither Daniel nor Rebecca ever spoke of, but Daniel had shared it, painfully, one night by a campfire. The sneer on Breeden's angry face told Mingo what was in store for him—a re-enactment of his friends' nightmare. The strong native did not fear death, but the thought of his death used to inflict pain on his friends filled his gentle heart with despair. He thought of Daniel finding his body. That had to be the man's purpose with him. Mingo dropped his head; his eyes fell from the cold stare of his tormentor.

Having won his little game of dominance, Breeden didn't miss the change in Mingo's expression. He quipped, "So you do know of Breeden?"

"I remember your spiteful words at the tavern in Salem…"

"Yes, exactly. I remember you, too. It would be hard to forget you in that Indian getup and that whip at your belt. You are memorable to say the least."

"I can say the same of you. What—I know of you does not explain your desire to go to Shawnee Town." Mingo could not breathe without pain. Talking was killing him, but he had to continue, to delay….

"They have something…that belongs to me."

The Cherokee looked up surprised. "What could that be?"

"You don't need to know. You only have to take me there, or at the rate you're going, draw me a map." Breeden laughed with his mouth shut.

"Listen to me." Mingo swallowed hard and tried to catch his breath. "If you have an ounce of reason, you will listen to me. I am only trying to save your lives. I can understand your sorrow and anger over the loss of your son, but you don't know the whole story—"

"Nay, my little Boone friend. It is you that is ignorant of the whole story and I have no desire to enlighten you."

Mingo looked into the eyes of the men crowded around Breeden. Vacant unblinking stares peered back at him from hard leather faces. The dreary dim lights of the living dead. These were criminals without morals or decency, but something motivated them. "Why are you men following him?"

"He's one o' ours. He'd do the same for anyone o' us."

"Loyalty among thieves? A pirate's pact?" Mingo laughed through the pain. "Come now, you mean he is paying you the same gold he offered me?" The men looked away, unable to meet the Cherokee's direct gaze, telling him he spoke the truth.

"You don't understand what you are doing," Mingo continued just to keep talking. He knew reason would not penetrate their minds, no more than stone-headed arrows would penetrate cast iron, but reason was his only weapon. "This is not simple revenge. If you so much as kill one Shawnee, you will touch off a war that will leave the land running with blood, both white and native. Families will die. Their blood will be on your hands. Their spirits will haunt you all of your days."

A gravelly voice inches from Mingo's ear growled, "That's not going t' happen." The Cherokee cringed and turned to look at the baldhead that owned the voice. All he could focus on in the flickering torchlight was a large gold ring hanging from an earlobe and gaping black teeth. "We've a free pass to Blackfish hisself. We've a bargain—"

"Shut up, Humphrey!" Breeden yelled at his subordinate and thrust his boot at the baldhead sending the pirate sprawling backwards to the ground.

Mingo was puzzled. None of this made any sense. He felt his own mind was failing him. Buzzing hornets filled his head. "All right then, say you have some kind of deal with the Shawnee, how will you fend off the wild beasts of the forest? The wolf, the panther, the bear?"

The men murmured among themselves.

Breeden spoke in a high-pitched sarcastic tone, mimicking a woman's voice, "Oh my, Mr. Indian, whatever will we do? The wolves, the panthers and the bears! It makes my heart tremble as a blade of grass before a herd of sheep." He put his fingers to his lips in mock panic. Breeden threw his head back and laughed and the men followed his lead, but Mingo wasn't convinced of their show of bravado.

"I want you to take us to Blackfish," Breeden said with a scowl, his fists on his hips.

"I will not."

"I see." Breeden clasped his large hands behind his back and paced in front of Mingo. His scabbard tapped his polished black boot as he walked back and forth. He pulled a white pipe from his pocket, examined it, and then returned it to his pocket then thrust his fists into his coat pockets. "I suppose I will have to find an incentive that is more important to you than your own life. The Boone family, perhaps? Is that a currency you understand? How many children does he have now? I know his wife is a pretty little red-headed gal."

"You said you would leave that family alone if I accompanied you."

"You said you would be our guide to the Shawnee." Breeden stopped his pacing. He stood before the native and displayed an insincere innocent smile. He held out his hands palms up. "If you do as I ask, I will leave the family alone."

Mingo felt his will slipping with every breath. He was as a rabbit tangled in a snare and not yet dead—bait for Daniel. He didn't want to force Breeden to substitute Daniel's family for him. "All right, if you leave them alone, I will take you to the Shawnee, but I assure you I will be leading you and your men to your deaths."

Breeden answered Mingo with a swift kick that slammed the Cherokee's head back against the tree sending him finally into darkness.

* * *

Breeden jerked his hand up, and snapped his fingers. "Morgan!"

A tall bearded man with angry eyes stepped forward from the menacing motley crowd that had watched the beating of the native with glee.

"Take a couple of men. Return to that cabin. Turn it upside down. Don't miss a shed or an outhouse. Find that family and bring them here."

"What makes ye think they be thar?"

"This Indian's been playing a dangerous game of deception. I admire his cunning, but he has greatly underestimated me. He doesn't realize that I am as woodcraft and Indian lore savvy as his friend Boone. I guess Boone didn't bother to tell him." Breeden chuckled. "He probably thinks I'm as stupid as you."

"I didn't sign on with ye to haul a woman and babes cross country. A wench is bad luck."

"That's on a voyage, you fool. We're not at sea, Morgan. How many times do I have to remind you?"

"I don't like it, Capt'n. Ye've injured that man till he can't lead us anywhere. Why the heck can't ye control yeer temper?"

"Have you not noticed you slackjawed sea-dog? He has had us chasing our tails for near eight hours!" Breeden raised his hand to strike his first mate, but Morgan ducked. Breeden laughed. "You sorry excuse for a navigator. You never could find your way from Front street to High. Take the boy Robert, and Humphrey, and do as I say. Keep your compass handy and mark your trail so you don't get lost. By my dead reckoning, that cabin's only two miles the other side of this ridge."

Morgan looked at his captain in disbelief.

"You best run, because we're moving on and you don't want to be marooned in this wilderness with a boy and a half-wit, do you?"

"They'll just slow us down t' a crawl and what's the point?"

"Are you going to stand there and question everything I say? This is a fine time you've picked for a mutiny." Breeden held up his fists and punched at Morgan's chest and bearded chin. "Come on then, you great blubberin' whale. You can't find your way home, but you want to take over? Prove you're man enough or shut your hatch."

Breeden danced about the motionless Morgan as a boxer with a dummy bag. Both men were large, tall and bulky with muscle. Morgan stood his ground and stared unflinching into the eyes of Breeden. The show had all of the men silently looking on with open mouths. They knew the outcome would determine who would lead them.

Morgan appeared to be sizing up his chances, he swayed back to avoid the threatening punches that came close to bloodying his nose, then relaxed and looked away.

"All right then," Breeden stopped his dance, and tugged on his silk vest to pull it back down over his broad chest. "This Indian's more complex than I anticipated. I wanted him to get us into Shawnee country to make it difficult for Boone. The wind has changed—a slight change in course is in order. He wants nothing of my beads or whiskey or gold. It's very clear the Boone family is all he cares about. Darndest thing I've ever seen. A redskin with familial feelings.

"Aye, Aye, Capt'n," Morgan said with a glower and a shake of his shaggy dirty-blond head. "I just cain't see the reason o' it. If ye kill this native how do we get t' the Shawnee?"

Breeden gripped Morgan's shoulder. "You wouldn't be going soft on this Indian would you, Morgan? Does his fine English have you thinking he's a Christian? Look at him, he's just another injun and what does Breeden do with injuns since you've known him?"

"Kill 'em."

"That's right. The British will pay us the same whether he's dead or alive. He fears the Shawnee more than me. Perhaps the Shawnee will pay for this obstinate Cherokee as well." Breeden smiled and winked one eye. "A double reward for one dead injun." He broke into a laugh and the men laughed cautiously with him until he turned and glared at them, silencing their mirth. "Anyways, there'll be another along soon that will take us where we want to go. One thing I know for sure about Boone is that he's loyal to his friends. It's a little weakness of his. Those hunters we chased off are going right to Boonesborough to tell him where we are. He'll be tracking his injun."

Breeden pulled Morgan in close and turned him so their backs were to the men. "Since you're my first mate, I'm going to let you in on my plan. Listen if you have ears. We're going to kill this injun, just like my son was killed, and leave him as bait for Boone to find. A calling card for Boone and the Cherokee. Let them know what's in store for them if they try to interfere with our plans. I'm just playing with him like a cat pawing a mouse waiting for ole Dan, pretending that I don't know we are right back where we started." Breeden's voice rose in volume at the end of his speech. He grinned and Morgan returned a grin crowned with a gold tooth. "That's why we need the family, else, why would Boone do as we ask after he finds his friend dead?"

"What ye going t' do with the family after we turn Boone over t' the British?" Morgan asked.

Breeden rolled his eyes to the sky then exhaled forcefully. "The Shawnee will pay us for them. They make Indians out of white women and children. I would just be doing Boone a favor, don't you think?"

Morgan let out a guttural laugh.

"Don't be parroting what you've heard. It's a secret, Morgan. Now shove off!"

Morgan headed in the wrong direction. Breeden grabbed him by the back of the collar and pushed him eastward.

After Morgan left, Breeden turned to the men and rubbed his big hands together. "Pete, strap the Indian up on this big Sycamore here like we always do and bring me the carving knife."

"Aye, Aye, Capt'n."

* * *

After Daniel left for the fort, Becky blew out the light and pretended to go to bed to calm the children, but she was far from calm. Her body shivered from fear. She quietly returned to stand by the window. Holding the wood shutter partly open, she watched the moonlit tree line beyond the clearing looking for movement. Her intuition grown from years on the frontier told her those men were not through with her family. As she waited in the dark for Cincinnatus to arrive, she recounted the many evenings she had spent worried about Daniel, or Mingo, or both, hoping for morning and the sight of the two men making their long strides—a light flickered then vanished before her. Becky stiffened and held her breath for a moment. The light reappeared. It was approaching through the wood. It came from the direction Mingo and the strangers had gone, not from the direction of the fort.

Becky hurried to the ladder to the loft. She climbed in the dark and shook Jemima then Israel. "Wake up!"

Jemima stirred first. "Mama? What's wrong?"

"No time to explain. Get up, get dressed. You'll have to dress in the dark. Hurry."

"Why?"

"Did you not hear me, child? There's no time for questions."

Becky moved aside to let Jemima grab her clothes and scurry down the ladder. She then proceeded to awaken Israel. "Israel. Wake up." Becky pulled the boy up in a sitting position and patted his cheeks. "Israel, you have to wake up now. Your Pa and Mingo need you to be brave and--"

"What? Where's Pa? Has he found Mingo?"

"Not yet, but you have to do something very important."

Israel climbed out of bed and quickly pulled his pants on and pulled off his nightshirt. "I'm ready, Ma."

"No you're not. Put your boots on and the rest of your clothes." Becky watched to see that Israel was awake and then she hurried down the ladder to join Jemima.

When Becky had her two children in front of her in the moonlit cabin, she took a deep breath. "Jemima, Israel, I need you to sneak out the back of this cabin and make your way as quietly as you can to the Henderson's"

"Mama, in the pitch dark!"

"I know Jemima, but that's the safest route at the moment. You both know the way." Becky grabbed a loaded pistol from the table. "Take this. Use it to defend yourselves, but don't shoot unless you know whom or what you are shooting at."

"Ma," Israel whined, "I'm the man, I should take the gun. Pa taught me how to shoot."

Jemima sighed in the dark.

"Israel, I'm sending you out of this cabin because I want you to grow up to be a man. Right now, you are the youngest. You have to let your sister lead. It's what your Pa would want."

"Ah, shucks. I would defend 'Mima with my life."

Jemima reached and hugged her brother close in the dark. "Don't worry Israel; we will protect each other this time."

Becky hurried them out the back door of the cabin reminding them to keep low and quiet. No sooner than she had shut the door behind them, her heart leapt at the sound of banging at the front door.

"Mrs. Boone! Mrs. Boone! Come quick. It's your husband. He's hurt bad."

It was a young voice, Becky didn't recognize. She walked to the window and looked out to see a tall lanky form at her door. He held a torch and a gun. She took a rifle off the rack over the mantel.

"Why didn't you bring him home?"

"I cain't. He's got broken bones. He said you'd know what to do."

"You're lying!"

"No ma'am! I ain't.

"You were with those men that took Mingo this morning."

"No ma'am. We don't mean anyone any harm. We're just trappers. Your husband came upon us and got tangled up in one of our traps and broke his leg. I think he'll be fine if you come help us."

"You're lying. There are men headed here to the cabin right now. You better get."

"Ma'am please. I'll put my gun down. You can hold it on me if you want."

Becky thought that a peculiar suggestion. The voice sounded so young and genuinely concerned…She lifted the latch on the door and swung it open then aimed her gun quickly at the boy's head. He was startled and stood with his mouth agape. "All right," Becky said slowly, "you put your gun down."

The stranger slowly leaned his gun against the doorframe and raised his hands. When the torch he was holding came up beside his face, it revealed a peach-faced youth.

"Where's Dan?"

"Up that trail there." The young man aimed his thumb behind him. As Becky looked off in the distance, she saw no one else.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes ma'am. My partner stayed with your husband."

"All right. Let me get my shawl, a blanket, a lamp and some herbs and cloth for a poultice. It'll take me a minute."

"I'll wait right here, ma'am."

"You'll wait right there in plain sight without that gun." Becky reached and picked up the stranger's gun. She lit an oil lamp and put together what she needed all the while keeping an eye on the young man who shifted from one foot to the other, ducking his eyes when she looked at him. When she was ready, she followed the youth away from the cabin, keeping a gun on his back, and one slung over her shoulder.

After they had traveled a mile, the guns got heavy for Becky. She shifted the weight of them as she had seen Daniel do so many times, cradling them in her arms. Shivering in the cold, she took a deep breath and tried to keep up with the stranger in front of her. "What is your name?"

"Robert, ma'am."

"Robert, slow down please. I can't keep up with your long legs."

"Of course, ma'am." The young man slowed.

As they turned a bend in the trail and paused at a small stream, Becky heard sounds in the woods behind them. She caught her breath and stopped. She was sure she heard a cry. Robert showed no sign of having heard the sound. "Did you hear a noise back down the trail?" she asked.

The boy stopped, turned, and walked back toward Becky. "No ma'am. It was probably just animals."

Becky dropped Robert's gun and aimed hers at his head.

"Hey, what are you doing Mrs. Boone?"

"I'm not yet convinced of your story."

Robert lost his innocent expression as if struck. His surly eyes focused on something behind Becky. Smart to the ploy, she wasn't going to be fooled. She walked around and got behind Robert to look at what he saw. She cried out. There stood two rowdies holding her children in front of them with pistols to their heads, their mouths covered.

"All right now misses. Ye put that gun down real gentle and these children won't be hurt," a tall grizzly man said.

Becky let the gun fall to the ground. She knelt and wept.

The men let the children run to their mother. "Ma! Ma! They were waiting for us, Ma!" Israel ran up crying and wrapped his arms around Becky. Then Jemima did the same in silence.

The short squat bald man drew in his breath with a whistle and looked Becky up and down. "Now ain't she a beauty."

"Shut up, Humphrey," the tall man yelled. I'm sure she don't think t' same o' yeer ugly puss."

Humphrey looked puzzled. "Morgan, have ye gone blind? It be a wench, a pretty one at that. Did Breeden tell ye t' save her for hisself? What be wrong with me taking a little liberty with her in the woods?"

"We don't have time for yeer tender dalliances. Breeden wants us back in a hurry."

"Huh? Morgan, since when do ye care about what Breeden wants? What's got into ye? Yeer the one that's always out a-wenching when you're suppose to be onboard--"

"Shut up, ye damn half-wit." Morgan put his nose up and stretched himself up tall. "The capt'n has honored me with his confidences."

Robert laughed.

"That goes for ye, too, deck ape!" Morgan yelled, flashing angry eyes at the boy.

Becky's heart pounded. Was this to be how she would end her life? A plaything for a gang of pirates. She would eat the bitter poisonous berry in the wood before she would let these men defile her. What would become of Israel and Jemima? Determined not to let them see her fear she looked up with livid eyes at the men. "You were all with the men that took Mingo."

"If ye be talking about that native, aye, that we were," the taller man said. The man bowed low, doffing his feathered cap. "The name's Morgan, first mate o' the Black Rose."

Becky glared ignoring his sarcastic chivalry. "So you are pirates."

Morgan and the other men chuckled and winked at one another. "Oh, no ma'am. We're legal privateers serving King George."

"Makes no difference to me," Becky said.

"That injun ain't cooperating, so the capt'n thought ye could convince him otherwise. Yeer friend's going t' need those supplies ye've brought. Last I saw him, he looked like a pile o' minced meat."

Becky gasped. "You've hurt Mingo? He was unarmed when you took him. For what earthly reason?" She looked up to the sky and exclaimed, "Law, can we have no peace?"

Israel broke free of his mother and ran to Morgan. The boy kicked him viciously in the shins. "If you've killed Mingo, I'm goin' to kill you, dad-burn it!"

Morgan jumped on one foot then the other and grabbed at the tow-headed boy weaving and bobbing around him. Morgan's companions yelped in amusement.

Humphrey slapped his thighs and yelled, "That's it boy, give ole Morgan a thrashing. He be a big man, but look what a little tike can do. Hee! Hee!" Humphrey jumped up and down drawing attention to his bare feet and threadbare pants. The gold ring at his ear glittered in the torchlight he carried.

Morgan yelled, "Misses ye best call this varmint off me or I'll be ending his days right here."

"Israel! Stop it. Come here this minute." Becky hurried over, grabbed her menacing son by the shoulders, and pulled him away from the pirate.

Morgan rubbed his bruised shins and glared at his companions.

* * *

When Daniel left the Boonesborough gates, he headed cross-country at a fast clip to cutoff the strangers west of where the Cleves had last seen Mingo. He sprinted across the broad meadow south of the fort. A thin layer of snowcrust glittered at his feet. He climbed Hackberry Ridge. Fear hung heavy within his chest like a lead brick. Fear of how he would find Mingo. What the fear didn't fill in his guts, guilt did as he remembered the day Breeden had seen Mingo with him in Salem, when the angry man bellowed his vile hate. Daniel knew then it had marked Mingo as a target—a friend of Daniel Boone was sporting game to Ahner Breeden.

Thick woods covered Hackberry Ridge. Daniel fought his way through the sparsely moonlit mass of trunks and tangled dead vines. He leapt over fallen wood that threatened to trip him at every turn. The dead vines grabbed his feet; the naked living limbs grabbed his body like wicked hands slowing his pace. It was as if the woods he knew so well had come alive and turned against him. The game he had trapped still flopped on his back. He berated himself for not leaving that at the cabin with Becky. The wolves would find him appealing this evening.

Daniel came down the south face of the ridge, sliding then trotting, scratched and bruised. He reached Bear Run Creek at the bottom, a softly murmuring stream, not yet frozen by winter's chill. He stopped and knelt by the adjacent trace worn by buffalo and elk that frequented the stream. The soft layer of snow on the trail had recently been trampled by the feet of men.

Westward, a faint misty yellow light lit the web of bared tree branches from underneath and silhouetted the dark violet-colored tree trunks of the primal forest. Daniel knew the stranger's torches and campfires created the eerie glow. They were ahead of him on the trail. He could smell burning wood and a faint scent of roasted meat. The sound of surly voices rose and fell carried by blistering gusts of cold wind. Buffeted by a dark wind, the long hunter moved with a steady lope westward along the trail, like a predator stalking its prey.

It wasn't long before Daniel, hidden in tall golden grass quietly parted, looked upon a strange and colorful scene. A sight he had seen before, but only on the wharfs of Charles Town. Before him were camped a dozen bearded and grizzly scar-faced, pockmarked men cooking their dinners or cleaning their weapons. Their colorful attire was a motley mix of discarded rags that had once been the fine clothes of the well-dressed of Europe, and the last war's sailor garb. Many sported colorful bandannas on their heads, their golden earrings, neck chains and medallions glittered in the firelight. He closed his eyes with the realization that Becky had seen these hideous men, and immediately noticed the foul aroma they gave off. If they weren't seen, their scent would warn of their approach.

The men before him represented every continent of the known world. Some were deep brown, some ebony. The whites were the lighter brown ones. Their weapon of choice--based on the way many of them were spitting and polishing it—was a short cutlass or sword, sheaved in a leather scabbard. Daniel could see they had guns and pistols, too. They were well armed, but for what purpose?

The hunter could not see what he had come for. He crawled on his belly further along the length of the camp, keeping his gun across his arms in front of him. He parted the grass again and caught sight of his avowed enemy, Ahner Breeden. A well-dressed handsome southern gentleman sitting by himself apart from the others, lost in silent contemplation. He was leaning back on a log, with a fat bottle of Madeira loose in his hand, and a pipe dangling from his lips. Before him roasted a wild hog on a spit over a fire.

Daniel's eyes scanned until they locked upon a form hung from a large Sycamore at the far edge of the camp. Was it man or beast? His heart stopped—he knew the blue pants. Mingo's muscular dark body was red with blood, his head hung down; his long black hair shaded his face. Blood dripped down the white bark—Daniel swallowed hard. _I'm too late_. He had to turn his eyes from the gruesome sight. Grief gripped his heart, despair his body—rendering him powerless, motionless. He dropped his head to the ground and wrestled with his emotions. His mind told him it was a trap. His heart's moment of grief—the rapid unrolling of the canvas in his mind that had been Mingo in his life—quickly turned to blinding rage. His heartbeat pounded the words into his head, _"Kill him, kill him, kill him, now!"_ He couldn't let Mingo's killer breathe another breath on this earth even if it meant his own death. Breeden must die by his hands.

After several minutes passed, Breeden barked a command for a subordinate to bring him his dinner. It broke Daniel's spell of inaction. He had to know for sure. He turned sorrowful eyes upon his friend once more, took a deep breath, cupped his hands around his mouth and made the sound of a hungry wolf. The men stopped and looked about with fear in their roving eyes. Daniel watched as Mingo raised his head slightly to reveal a blood covered but familiar face. The frontiersman sighed in relief. His body filled with renewed strength. His mind regained its knife-like focus. He rustled the grass to signal Mingo, who nodded in reply.

Daniel slunk back into the cover of the woods at his back. He edged around the perimeter of the camp, looking for the best way to make his appearance. A twig snapped to his left and before he could turn his head, one of the sentries was upon him flailing a short sword that flashed in the moonlight. Daniel ripped his knife from its sheath at his boot, turned and threw it, piercing the heart, bringing the giant down with a thud that shook the earth. Daniel waited quietly and soon heard the men stirring.

"What was that? Did ye hear?"

"I heard nothing."

"Dave? How ye go, lad?"

"Yo!"

"And ye Edward?"

"Yo! I be here."

"Harry? How ye be our dearest Harry?"

When no answer came, Daniel knew he knelt over dearest Harry. Remembering the wolves and the strangers' reaction to his wolf call, an idea arose like the morning sun in the long hunter's mind. He slit the man's throat, put three long cuts on his cheek, and then dashed into the brush. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he gave a perfect rendition of a wolf howl intended to bring the pack to a meal. As the men came to check on Harry's silence, Daniel pulled off the game at his back. He hastened along the edge of the camp towards Mingo, tossing rabbits and quail, leaving a trail of fresh meat behind him. Then he moved back into the woods behind his Cherokee friend, and waited. The men soon found their dead comrade.

"Breeden! Harry's dead. Looks like an animal got him about the throat."

Daniel made the wolf howl again.

The men looked around alarmed. "Ain't that a wolf?"

"That it be. We've heard that dreadful sound since we crossed the Gap."

Soon the wolves answered Daniel's call and surrounded the camp. The wolves' low growls and snarls filled the dark forest like the distressed moans and grumbles of ancient beasts long dead. The remaining two sentries ran into the camp in a panic.

"Wolves! Wolves! There's wolves all around us. I seen their eyes."

Daniel turned to see the yellow eyes behind him reflecting the firelight. The men panicked and discharged their weapons blindly into the woods. The wolves barked sharply in reply. In the mayhem and distraction, Daniel jumped and dashed into the camp reaching the injured Cherokee in two long leaps. He slit the rawhide tethers that suspended his friend from the tree. Mingo slid to the ground. Daniel laid a hand on his shoulder. The native looked up with weary dark eyes full of pain.

Breeden spotted Daniel with Mingo. "That's Daniel Boone with the injun, get him."

The captain's call went unheeded by his men.

"You men," Daniel yelled, "those wolves are starved. They are stalking you. They will eat you alive—tear you from limb to limb. Your guns will do you no good." The men turned frightened faces to the tall frontiersman.

"Don't listen to him," Breeden shouted. "He's lying. Those wolves will not bother you."

"Bury your friend quickly if you don't want to watch him torn asunder by wolves," Daniel said.

The men stood frozen. They darted nervous glances around them, clearly afraid to turn their backs on the forest.

"You worthless chumbuckets," Breeden yelled, red-faced. "I was raised on the frontier. Will you take the word of a stranger over mine?"

The men continued to waver. A whisper broke the fearful silence of the men, "Boone called the beasts here."

"He sure did. He must control 'em."

"He be a sorcerer for sure."

Breeden shook his head in disgust. "Well, if I am to die, I shall take you with me, Boone." Breeden lifted his pistol to fire and took aim. Daniel quickly knelt and covered Mingo. He heard the whistle of the ball. The shot hit the tree just above his shoulder and peppered him with splintered bark.

As Breeden went to reload, Daniel pulled his blood-soaked friend up on his feet. Mingo leaned into him, too weak to stand. Daniel bent down and hoisted him to his shoulder causing the native to groan in pain. He picked up Tick-licker, and dashed into the pack of wolves. As he ran past the beasts, he heard their heavy breathing, their snarls of warning. He heard Breeden yelling to his men to give chase but the men fled the opposite way down the trail to get away from the wolves.


	4. Boone's Reckoning 3

**Boone's Reckoning**

Becky and the children trudged south, climbing the east end of Hackberry Ridge. The torches the men carried cast deceptive threatening shadows as their flickering light passed over the thick wood. To Becky's mind, every knurled tree trunk and jetting rock outcrop became a bear or worse—another grubby hairy pirate.

They reached an abandoned campsite where it was apparent Morgan was expecting to find his companions. He lifted his feathered hat and ran his filthy fingers through his long tousled hair. He appeared as a man distraught.

Becky brushed a loose lock of hair from her eyes and asked, "Do you not know the way?"

"I don't reckon so. I'm no landlubber and these trees overhead interfere with me navigating."

"What a stupid pirate you are," Israel said. "You see up there is the big dipper plain as can be. It points to the north star. Don't you know the north star is always to your north?"

"I don't sail in these seas, boy. Ye best be learning t' respect yeer elders. Breeden will kill ye if ye talk t' him like that."

"Well, golly gee. Who would threaten to kill someone just for pointin' out the north star?"

Becky grabbed Israel's shoulders and pulled him towards her. "Israel, you called the man stupid. There was no need for that. Since when do I or your father allow such talk?"

"Ah, Ma," Israel complained with tears in his eyes. "They've hurt Mingo and insulted you and you're expectin' me to show 'em respect? That's not a man's way, Ma. That's not Pa's way!"

Becky sat down with Israel in her arms on a fallen log and tried to catch her breath. "Breeden? Is that what you said? Are you referring to Ahner Breeden?"

"Aye. He knows yeer husband."

"Yes. He was once a friend."

Morgan laughed. "'Tis hard t' picture Breeden a friend o' any man. The Breeden I know be a hard-hearted fiend."

"He wasn't always so. Once he was a good man. The world turned his heart to evil."

"Mama," Jemima said, "I think I remember that man. He had a big tobacco farm in North Carolina didn't he? And owned the dry goods store at the trading post?" Jemima laughed. "He and his store always smelled of tobacco."

"Yes, Jemima."

"He gave me candy and call me little flower."

"Yes, Jemima." Becky's eyes welled with tears. "Life didn't treat him well. The man was destined for tests greater than Job's. He lost his family and set to drinking and gambling—lost all of his inheritance, his land, and then he lost his only son, Tom." Becky bent over Israel and rested her cheek on the crown of his head. Her body shook with her sobs.

Jemima put her arm across her mother's back. "I'm sorry to have made you sad, Mama. You're remembering James, aren't you?"

Becky laid her hand on Jemima's.

An awful howling arose from the west startling the men. They jumped up with their guns ready and peered intently down the dark trail.

"What's that?" Humphrey asked. "Sounds like the calling o' the dead t' rise."

"Kentucky's dead are comin' to get you," Israel said.

"That's wolves," Morgan said. "We've been hearing them since we crossed the mountains."

"They're starved," Israel said with his eyes wide and menacing. "They've killed and eaten all the chickens, pigs 'n cows 'round Boonesborough. Now they're goin' to eat you!"

Robert and Humphrey looked at each other wide-eyed.

"Shut up, boy!" Morgan bellowed.

Becky wrapped her arms tighter around Israel. Jemima shielded her brother with her own body.

The howling continued. Sharp reports of gunfire made Becky and the children jump. Then a chorus of barks put everyone on edge.

"'Tis the way we're headed, Morgan," Humphrey said with a tinge of panic in his husky voice. "Do ye think the beasts have Breeden and t' others?"

"Well, I guess we'll be finding out. Let's move. Misses ye lead the way."

Becky arose and with her children at her side, headed down the shadowy trail towards the ominous din.

Daniel plodded up the ridge with his heavy burden. He stopped to catch his breath at a small clearing near the top where he eased Mingo down to the ground.

Mingo crumpled in pain, gripping his middle. With difficulty he said, "Daniel…they are headed for Shawnee Town. They have something he wants...start a war...settlers could die."

"Quiet, now, Mingo." Daniel felt over his friend searching for broken bones and soon found the source of Mingo's pain—broken ribs on his left side. "I'll just have to get there before he does."

"Daniel…you can't. You will need more men. Go to the Cherokee. The Shawnee will kill you on sight—leave me here—I will only slow you down."

Daniel searched over Mingo's body in the moonlight trying to find the source of the blood that seemed to be gushing from everywhere. It was wet and sticky, fresh… his friend could die from this much loss of blood. "Mingo, where are you cut?" Daniel heard the panic in his own voice. He was still panting hard from the climb.

"What?"

Daniel thought Mingo couldn't think straight due to the blood loss. He gripped his friend's shoulders and held him down flat on his back. "You're bleeding like a stuck pig. Help me out here. Where are you cut?"

The Cherokee grabbed Daniel's forearm. "Daniel, it is only hog's blood. They poured it on me. I thought it a strange ritual at first, but it was only a cruel trick played on you. My only injuries are a severe head-bashing and these broken ribs." Mingo coughed and gripped his side with his arm, clearly in pain. "They have rendered me quite useless."

Daniel cursed under his breath. He sat back on his heels and hung his head down gripping his thighs with his hands until they hurt. The truth of the deception did not dampen his anger. "I can't leave you out here with this hungry wolf pack with all this blood on you. They might not wait for you to die. Chota is too far away."

Mingo chuckled, which caused him to cough again and catch his breath. He squeezed his eyes shut and rolled on his side. "I'm not afraid of my brother the wolf, Daniel, but the Shawnee—that is another matter…"

"All the same, I will not leave you here. You're in this mess simply because you befriended Daniel Boone—simply because you are a native of this land." Daniel growled his words through clenched teeth. "You don't have a weapon. You can't defend yourself."

"And here I thought you were a rational man. You are disappointing me, Daniel. Just leave me your knife."

"I have an idea," Daniel said. "You wait here."

"Gladly. That's what I've been trying—Daniel?" Mingo opened his eyes and realized the frontiersman had left. "Some way to say good-by. At least have the courtesy to tell me your idea. Give me a chance to ridicule and deride—Ugh—"

A sharp pain stabbed Mingo in his side. He couldn't breathe and was relieved his friend had left so he didn't feel compelled to talk. He was drifting into a black fog when surly voices from the base of the ridge aroused him.

"Which one of ye barnacles took my blanket?"

"Probably the same one that took me rifle and powder."

"Hey! That injun's bullwhip is gone."

Mingo smiled to himself.

Daniel grabbed the booty and quietly crept back to the creek. He stuffed the blanket into his coat to keep it dry. Keeping the guns ready to use, he crossed the stream by hopping across the smooth stones. He heard the shouts of the men as they discovered their possessions missing, but he was well hidden before they began to look outside their camp for the culprit.

Just then, the melancholy howl of the wolf pack arose from the dark forest. Daniel felt a small pang of sadness for the wolves, though he was thankful for their timing. He knew they were starving and yet they still would not attack these humans--not yet anyway. The men in the camp withdrew to their campfires in fear.

When Daniel returned to Mingo, he found him unconscious. "Mingo?" He spread the blanket over the still form, laid the water pouch, the gun, the whip, the powder and shot bag next to him. He placed his hand on Mingo's shoulder and gently shook him. "Mingo? Can you hear me?" Still no response. Daniel felt for a pulse and found it weak. A cold shiver formed in his stomach with the realization that he could still lose his friend. He had to get him to Yadkin.

He had a plan. That's how his mind worked. If he just stopped thinking about something that was stumping him for a while and do something else, a solution would present itself. He already knew Mingo wouldn't agree with it, but he respected his native friend's intelligence. He thought back to the many times when he had adjusted his plan so the stubborn Cherokee would agree with it. Mingo was usually right. Daniel chuckled, and then thought of Becky telling him as much. He dropped his head and swallowed back tears. Had it all come to this? He and Breeden in a wood squaring off like two dogs. Wasn't the tragedy of their sons' death enough? Must the fathers now shed their blood in payment? He rocked back on his heels and buried his face in his large hands. "Ah, Mingo, I am so sorry. I sit here wretched and remorseful—no better than the man that beat you. I have brought this evil with me surely as the dust cloud behind a herd of buffalo—"

"What? Daniel?"

"I'm right here." Daniel reached out and grabbed Mingo's arm. "I brought you a few things."

"So, I heard. You are going then?"

"I figure I need to get to Blackfish before those fools."

"Daniel, you might not make it through his warriors. Dark Panther still has it out for you. Blue Jacket will show you no mercy."

"It's a chance I have to take. Those pirates could bring the Shawnee down on Boonesborough and Chota. I have to do what I can to prevent that."

"Breeden told me that the Shawnee had something he wanted. Something that belonged to him."

"I don't know what in blazes that could be."

"I think he has something to trade for what he wants. He didn't say what."

"Can't you guess? Guns, land rights, the settlers driven out or maybe just you and me? Mingo, he's a slaver, a smuggler, a murderer…I have no idea why he took you except to get me. The whole Shawnee story could be a ruse."

"If you say he is a smuggler, then besides you and me, guns would be the only thing he would have the power to deliver that the Shawnee would want. They had a few pack mules, but I didn't see any quantity of guns. If anything, what they carried was either bags of trinkets—"

"—or bags of gold," Daniel finished Mingo's sentence.

Breeden's voice taunted from below. It bounced off the ridge. "Boone, how does it feel to be hunted? My men are pretty good at hunting prey, but not so good at retrieving it. They're like that dreadful hound I use to have that only knew how to tear up everything I brought down. You remember him don't you? He'd always bring the game back shredded and bloody. I couldn't break him of it, but didn't have the heart to put him down. I don't want to see these canines get hold of you and your friend. Why don't you just come on down here by the fire real peaceful? Let's talk about this."

Daniel chuckled softly and whispered. "If a b'ar came along right now, those men would scatter like a dandelion in the wind. Imagine them against the Shawnee or the Wyandot. I have to admit, though, their garb and hairy faces would probably scare off an Indian hunting party."

Mingo raised himself with difficulty on one elbow and looked down at the cluster of torches and campfires. Daniel followed his gaze. Breeden sat near a fire, gnawing at a piece of meat. "Daniel, you could pick off Breeden from here and the rest would scatter."

"I reckon I could. My anger at what he has done to you is close to overcoming my reason. But you know that I'm a man of words before guns."

"I've already tried words, Daniel, and these broken ribs were my reward. So you believe that man is redeemable by a few words from you?"

"He's leading those men to their deaths."

"Then shoot Breeden and save them. It would be a selfless act of benevolence."

Daniel rubbed his face with his hand and studied the men below for a moment. Then he turned back to Mingo. "I'll wrap your ribs with this shirt I stole for now. I can do better when we get farther away."

"Daniel—"

"Hush," Daniel growled low.

Mingo lay back and remained silent for several minutes.

Daniel regretted his tone. He placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry. It clearly hurts you to talk, and frankly, I can't stand to hear the pain in your voice. They know we are up here. It would be too easy for them to find you with daylight. We have to move together."

Daniel pulled a cloth from his haversack and rolled it up. "Here, bite on this; it'll keep you from yelping. This will be painful." He pulled Mingo up into a sitting position in front of him. He wrapped and tied the shirt around his friend's ribs as tight as he could. The Cherokee passed out from the pain and fell back into his arms. Daniel realized this was his chance to carry his friend to safety. He wrapped Mingo in the blanket, grabbed all the gear he could carry on his back, and then lifted the tall native to his shoulder. With the two rifles in one hand and an arm around Mingo's legs to keep him in place, Daniel trudged higher up the ridge until he reached the old Indian trail that followed it.

Just as Daniel reached the trail and found level ground, Mingo cried out in pain.

"Put me down."

Daniel gingerly lowered him to the ground and knelt by his side.

"Leave me," Mingo whispered.

"No."

"You have to."

"Yad waits for us with canoes at the river."

"No, Daniel. I cannot do it. Please."

Daniel opened the water flask, gently lifted his friend's head and helped him take some of the cool liquid. He could hear the men below thrashing about with their swords in the underbrush at the bottom of the ridge. Voices wafted up the ridge, broken by the wind."

"Breeden, this brush is too thick. We need t' find a trail up thar."

"Burn it."

"What? Are ye crazy?"

"Burn it I say. Maybe the wind will carry it all the way to Boonesborough. Hey, Boone," Breeden yelled, "how long would it take for a fire to reach that wood fort of yours? Shall we find out?"

"The fool," Daniel said under his breath.

"He bluffs, Daniel," Mingo whispered painfully. "He would only trap himself. The wind blows from the north, away from the fort."

"I'm not sure he's got enough reason left in his head to know that. The Breeden I knew years ago would know better. He knew the wilderness as well as I. Which calls into question his whole need to have you guide him to the Shawnee."

"Daniel Boone, do you hear me?" Breeden growled from below.

"I hear you, Breeden," Daniel answered. "I'm coming down."

"Ah, now that's being reasonable. We'll put some coffee on and chat about old times."

Mingo grabbed Daniel's booted ankle as he started to walk off. "No, Daniel. Wait. Where is your family?"

"They're safe. Cincinnatus is at the cabin. You stay here, behind these rocks until I return to fetch you."

"They're not at the fort?" Mingo asked in a panicked voice.

"No." The thought crossed Daniel's mind that his friend was losing his powers of reason. He bent down, laid a hand on his forehead, but found no fever. "The children were in bed already. I didn't have the heart to march them to the fort."

Mingo groaned and rolled on his side towards Daniel. "What are you thinking of doing?" he asked.

"I got me an idea."

"Oh, no," Mingo shook his head, "whatever it is, forget it, you are only one man."

"Sometimes one man is all that's needed. The way I see it, Breeden's here for me. He's got to show me something."

"Yes, your death, Daniel. There is no reason for both of us to die. Let me return down the ridge, while you escape."

"No. How could you even think…? Mingo, sometimes you are plumb perplexing."

Mingo chuckled in pain. "I perplex myself most of the time. You have a family, Daniel. I do not. Think of Israel and Jemima's lives without you."

"I appreciate the offer mind you, but I won't let you die in my place. You and I shall have an eye-to-eye talk about that when I get back. You rest here, until I return. If I can keep my wits about me, neither one of us will be dying any time soon."

Daniel bent down, pulled Mingo's grip loose, and laid his arm gently across his chest. He wrapped the blanket close around his friend. Laying a hand on Mingo's shoulder he said, "You stay here. God willing, I will return for you. If not, don't let Yadkin trip over you."

* * *

Daniel made his way down the ridge. A few guards lingered at the edge of the stream. The rest of the men were busy burying Harry. Daniel distracted the guards by tossing dead logs down at them. They followed the falling debris, like dogs to fresh meat, allowing the frontiersman to glide by them and down the stream. He crossed unseen.

Coming up behind Breeden, still sitting alone, Daniel brought his knife to Breeden's throat. "Not a word," Daniel whispered. He reached around, pulled the pistol from Breeden's belt, and stuck it in his own. Then he unsheathed Breeden's knife and tossed it into the woods. "You want to talk, get up quietly and walk straight behind you into the woods. Act like you're going for a piss so I don't have to throw this knife into you like I did dearest Harry. Leave your sword behind."

Breeden stiffened at the touch of Daniel's hand, but he arose, unbuckled and dropped his scabbard and moved into the woods where he found the long hunter waiting.

Breeden's white toothy grin glowed in the moonlight. "Daniel, my old friend. That was a right sly deception you played with those wolves. You always were a handy fellow in the wild. My how long it's been since I've seen you and your pretty wife. What was her name? Re-BEC-cah, wasn't it?"

Daniel threw his left fist up in a hook and caught Breeden's jaw. The big man's head jerked back violently and he fell to the ground.

Breeden rubbed his jaw then chuckled. "I guess I had that coming."

"What are you doing here with that bunch of pirates?" Daniel asked.

Breeden sat up and leaned back on his elbows. "Daniel, please, we are merchant seaman. What an imagination you have."

"Answer my question."

"I've business with the Shawnee. Is there some rule that says a sea-faring man cannot venture into this fine colony? Have we broken some law, my friend?"

"You're no friend of mine. There's no law ag'in it, as long as your purpose is peaceful. I don't see anyway that your purpose could be peaceful if you're beating up unarmed Indians and shooting at hunters."

"Well, now, peaceful is a subjective word, Daniel. What might be peaceful to me is an act of war to someone else."

"What is your business with the Shawnee?"

"You affront me, grossly, Daniel. I am merely establishing a trading venture. Seems like you of all people would understand that seeing how you raised this settlement up out of buffalo and elk dung. How is that land speculation business going?"

Daniel leveled Tick-licker at Breeden's head. "I'll blow your head clean off your neck for what you've done to Mingo if you don't start talking."

"Mingo? Is that his name? Funny name for an Indian. I asked him nice to guide us to the Shawnee and he refused. I thought a little beating would convince him otherwise. Don't you find that you have to beat these injuns now and then?"

"Any other man would simply find another guide. Why do you need a guide anyways? Didn't he tell you he was a Cherokee? You know as well as I that the Cherokee and Shawnee are enemies. You were going to kill him. You were just waiting for me to show up to finish the festivities."

Breeden chuckled. "Ah, shucks, Dan. It would only be like losing your favorite hound—"

Daniel poked Breeden in the chest with the end of the gun. "You're just sittin' up and beggin' for it aren't ya? I've a mind to oblige you."

"I have to ask the question, Boone. Why don't you hate the Indians? I thought you'd have hunted the redskin down that killed your son. The way I heard it, you didn't do a thing but urge people not to hate the Indians when every man around you was ready to wipe them off the face of the earth for what they did to our boys. Sounds to me like you're nothing but a yellow-bellied coward."

"It's just not my way, Breeden. I never saw any good come from hate. It only begets more hate and senseless killing. Besides, it weren't the Indians as a whole that did it. Now, if'n I ever got a bead on that killer, if I came upon him sitting by the river catching his dinner, I can't say whether I would or I wouldn't kill him. The opportunity just hasn't presented itself."

"That's your Quaker upbringing isn't it? But, you hate me don't you? Your Quaker upbringing doesn't extend to old Ahner Breeden does it?"

Daniel didn't respond. He was listening to the men in the distance. They called Breeden's name from the safety of their campfires. Daniel knew the men would not venture into the dark woods for fear of the wolves, which meant Mingo was safe, until daylight.

Breeden made a sudden move as if to rise and Daniel pointed the barrel of his gun at his captive's face. "You and I are going to have a reckoning."

"You can't kill me, Boone. If you could, I'd already be dead. I know what a marksman you are." Breeden shook his head. "Now, isn't that just the bull built backwards? I bet your Indian friend up there could do it. He told me he would if I didn't kill him."

Daniel didn't answer.

"You preaching from the pulpit now, Boone?" Breeden chuckled when Daniel continued to ignore him. "Like your daddy did in that tavern he built on Dutchman's Creek? I always liked your daddy. He didn't let religion get in the way of his own clear God-given wisdom. You sound like your daddy. I bet you got a congregation back at that fort that says "amen" to everything you say—or maybe I'm your congregation of one? Have you come down here to save me?"

Daniel kicked Breeden in the chest knocking him back to the ground and started to bring the butt of his rifle down on his skull, but Breeden raised his hands, and murmured, "All right, all right. Maybe you can kill. No need to prove it on my account. I came to make a simple trade with the Shawnee on behalf of the British. I'm a British agent."

"A Loyalist?" Daniel chuckled. "Your only allegiance is to Ahner Breeden. But, you go ahead, tell your story. I'm listening."

"I carry gold and a sealed proclamation from King George."

"What does the King have to say?"

"He is ceding the lands west of the Cumberlands and east of the Mississippi to the Shawnee."

Daniel laughed.

"What's so funny, Boone?"

"The picture in my mind of Blackfish holding your little piece of paper with its fancy seal. He would use it to kindle a fire."

"It is backed by the British Crown and British military might."

"King George must be losing his mind—he forgot to send his army."

"There's a British agent who lives with the Shawnee. He is soon to be the son-in-law of Blackfish. He has arranged free passage through Shawnee country for us to bring this paper and the gold. Our mission is to find a trade route to New Orleans for the movement of the finest furs from these parts bound for the Royal palaces. The King will pay the Shawnee handsomely for their efforts. Trade with the Indians has always been a profitable venture, Daniel. You can't deny that. Do you dare to stand in the way of the King's will? Come now, let's put the past behind us and partner up on this. I'll make it worth your while if you'll be our guide to New Orleans. What do you say?"

"There's no British agent living with the Shawnee. I know Blackfish and his chiefs."

"Apparently, you haven't seen him lately. Blackfish wants you brought to him dead or alive and will pay us well to do the work. He's been convinced by that British agent that you—and Ming-WHO—are impediments to his desires. Don't think for a minute you have the upper hand. My men live by a strict code. They will continue their mission with or without me. My second holds an identical copy of this paper in my pocket. If we don't arrive on time at Shawnee Town, the Shawnee will come looking for us. I'm the only way you can escape this fate, Boone. I'm _your_ salvation." Breeden chuckled softly.

"Those men are afraid of harmless wolves," Daniel said. "They'll get lost, go insane, and die in these woods of starvation and cold. Then they'll be eaten by the wolves, and what's left of their carcasses will feed the Kentucky worms."

"What they lack in woodcraft knowledge, they fully make up with fierce killer instinct and an unquenchable thirst for gold."

"You've been duped by the Shawnee. There will be no pot of gold for you, only a slow painful Shawnee death."

"You're the liar, Boone."

"Get up Breeden. I'm going to prove it to you."

Breeden stood up. "How's that Boone? You have a friend that's hurt bad up on that ridge. Aren't you concerned for him? Bring him down and we'll not harm him further."

"When your men find you gone, they'll hightail it back to the Gap in a blind panic the minute some wolves or coyotes decide to strike up a little group howl. Come on, move out this way." Daniel moved behind Breeden and shoved him towards the west.

"Where are we going? Don't be a fool, Boone," Breeden said. "It would be best if I don't leave these men to their own minds right now. They're a rough bunch. Think of your friend, nothing you care for is safe…"

"I'm taking you to Blackfish. That's what you want isn't it?"

"But, Daniel, listen--"

"Breeden, the way I see it, we can either stand here calling each other liar or we can go find out the truth. Shortest way to the truth passes through Shawnee Town."


	5. Boone's Reckoning 4

**Boone's Reckoning**

Two canoes glided along the Kentucky river at the edge of a broad strip of rippled moonlit water. Three men sat in one canoe, the other canoe towed behind them. The woods loomed dark and ominous to each side of the river, casting distorted menacing shadows. The only sound was the slight splash made by the oars as they dipped in and out of the black water.

"Mr. Yadkin, such profound silence," Dr. Meriwether Cleves said from the bow of the canoe. "It's like none I have ever known."

"Dr. Cleves," Yadkin whispered in reply, "I don't know what silence means in Williamsburg, but 'round here it means no talkin'. If you don't mind, I'd like to follow my understandin' o' the word. Silence, please."

Dr Cleves shrugged his shoulders and continued to paddle.

They soon neared a bend in the river. The forest grew thicker and taller in front of them.

"Let's hit it midstream and let the current turn us," Yadkin said from the rear of the canoe. Percy sat in the middle, gripping the sides of the craft. Yadkin could see by the moonlight that the young man's knuckles were white. "Percy, ease up your grip, boy. You're goin' to be tuckered-out before we ever meet up with those pirate fellers."

"I am sorry, Mr. Yadkin. I will endeavor to calm myself."

Yadkin chuckled to himself. "All right. Doctor, pull your paddle in. I'll provide the tiller back here."

The canoe glided into the dark, the rush of the water changing its course and heading it an abrupt southwest. The canoe's backend swung violently around, but within seconds they were gliding calmly again in quiet water.

Yadkin heard Percy take a deep breath and exhale. "Percy, Dan'l's little boy screams with delight when we make that turn."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Yadkin, it is quite the thrill," Percy replied with a shiver in his voice.

Within minutes, Yadkin guided the canoes to the bank of the river. The men disembarked and pulled the boats up out of the water.

Yadkin looked around for a good place to build a fire. "Up there under those trees looks good. Let's gather some firewood and make like a group of Indians restin' after a long hunt."

"Mr. Yadkin," Dr. Cleves said, "do you really think our outfits and this paint on our faces will convince real Indians that we are Indians?"

"Nay, o' course not. We only have to convince those yahoos that took Mingo."

Yadkin built a fire and gathered some logs to sit on. "All right, put these Indian blankets over your shoulders and stay hunched over so your faces can't be seen. We'll be waitin' awhile for Dan'l to come along."

* * *

Becky and her children made their way west along Bear Run Creek with their grumbling captors. They moved slowly thanks to many false turns and circles. Becky and Jemima tried to stall by falling often until the big leader of the group, Morgan, said he would shoot Israel if either one fell again.

They heard the yells of men in the distance, though they couldn't make out the words.

"That's our men, Morgan," young Robert proclaimed.

"Aye, maybe Boone has taken the bait. Come, let's hurry. Let's each carry one o' these people. We can get there faster." As Humphrey raised Jemima up on his shoulder, she screamed and Israel kicked the man's shins. Robert grabbed up Israel under his arm with the boy still kicking at the air.

Morgan bent down and lifted Becky onto his shoulder with a force that knocked the breath out of her. "Mrs. Boone, ye tell yeer boy t' cooperate or I'm goin' t' shoot him in the head," Morgan growled.

"Israel—be still. Your father will save us. Be brave."

Israel quieted down and the group moved west over a rough trail.

Daniel led Breeden quickly to the Kentucky river. He spotted a fire on the shore. "Breeden, I don't know if that's friends or foes up there. I'm going to take a look. You stay here. If you try to run back to your friends, I'll chase you down and shoot you dead. You know you can't outrun me."

Breeden nodded.

Daniel crept up to the trees behind the group of men he saw sitting around a campfire with their backs to him. He expected to see Yadkin, but what he saw looked like three Indians. There were two canoes beside the river. He crept back to Breeden's side. "Looks like Indians got our campsite tonight. We're going to borrow one of their canoes. Follow me and don't make a sound if you value your scalp."

Daniel stole into the water with Breeden in front and pulled one of the canoes in after him. He laid his gun and powder in the canoe. They walked a ways in the shallow water along the edge of a canebrake, until they were out of sight of the Indians. Then Daniel jumped into the canoe and pulled Breeden in after him, nearly tipping the craft over.

Daniel picked up an oar and handed it to Breeden. "Paddle."

* * *

"Mr Yadkin," Percy asked, "my legs are cramping sitting here crosslegged. May I walk about?"

"Sure. Just don't go far."

Percy stumbled to his feet on long gangly legs. Yadkin chuckled under his Indian blanket that covered his blond hair.

The young scholar walked about and rubbed his knees. "Mr. Yadkin?"

"Yep."

"It seems that one of our canoes is missing."

"What?" Yadkin jumped up, dropped the blanket, and ran to the edge of the river. "Well, if that ain't the…" Yadkin slapped the side of his leg. "I guess it weren't pulled out o' the water enough. We'll just have to paddle down the river to find it in the mornin'. Dad-blame it."

Both Dr. Cleves and his nephew stood staring wide-eyed at Yadkin.

"What's the matter with you two?" Yadkin asked. "Ain't you ever seen a man get mad before?"

"Well, Mr. Yadkin," the doctor said, "how do you know it wasn't a man that took that canoe?"

"Cause I just knows, that's why."

* * *

Mingo awoke with a start. It was still night. He was on his back, wrapped in a blanket, staring up at a violet-black moving sky that he soon figured out was clouds. The moon was covered yet still illuminated the woods with a hazy blue light. He felt a chill. Disoriented, he thought he had been dreaming of voices. Familiar voices intermingled with loud ones punctuated by profanity. There it was again. He wasn't dreaming. A female—Rebecca Boone's voice!

The Cherokee struggled to sit up. He rolled on his side, his hand fell on a rifle, he screamed in silence with the pain of his broken ribs. As he gasped for air, his chest convulsed with coughing. He lay still for a moment and tried to relax until he could take in shallow breaths. Pulling himself up using the rifle, he stumbled painfully down the ridge. The camp sat below him like a misty orange cloud floating in the dark violets of the bare woods. After crossing the stream, he reached the tall grass adjacent to the pirate's camp. Peering through parted grass, the sight that met his eyes made his heart throb in his chest.

There was Daniel's family with those beasts. They taunted Becky and shoved the children about among them as if they were merely play balls. The torchlight painted a grotesque picture of the huge pirates, their shadows long and beastly. The family looked so small and helpless it made tears come to Mingo's eyes. He had failed them.

Mingo took a deep painful breath. Stumbling into the camp a wounded man would not save his friends. He couldn't see Daniel or Breeden. He needed to know the pirates' plans. Mingo lay back in the grass and tried to concentrate. Breathing shallow not to cause his ribs to hurt, he listened.

"Stop it," Becky shrieked. "Leave the children alone. I will go anywhere with you, just please leave the children."

The men laughed. A one-eared man yelled, "Take care now, lassie, we may just take ye up on that. We been getting' a little lonely out here for female company."

"All right, enough ye barnacles," Morgan yelled. "Leave off with the bullyin' or I'll be knockin' yeer skulls together for fun."

The men stopped, if only to hear what Morgan said. Jemima and Israel took the opportunity to run to their mother.

"Are ye o' a mind t' take charge, Morgan?" a tall gangly man said.

"Pete, I be in charge when Breeden ain't here," Morgan exclaimed. "There's no doubt about it. Someone care t' tell me where Breeden went?"

The men shrugged, scratched their heads, and kicked the dirt with their bare feet.

"Well, ain't that just fine," Morgan said.

"Boone showed up and carried off the native. He's got magic, Morgan. He conjured up a pack o' beasts that aimed t' eat us all alive. They got poor Harry."

"That's my pa!" Israel yelled. "He and Mingo can make the wolves and the Cherokee come after you. You'll be sorry you ever stepped foot in Kentucky."

"Boy, hadn't I told ye t' shut up?"

"Maybe Breeden's been et," Humphrey said with a shiver in his voice.

"Listen up, ye men," Morgan yelled, "we've a pact to see this mission through with or without Breeden."

"I say we vote. The situation's changed."

"How's that Pete? What be ye votin' on?" Morgan snarled.

"If we all agree, we renew the pact without Breeden, if we don't we leave the way we came and split the gold."

"Ye fool!" Morgan said with a chuckle. "The only ways we are goin' t' get paid is if we complete the mission t' Shawnee Town then on t' New Orleans."

A tall man yelled from the rear of the group, "Open the bags and count the gold." The men announced their agreement in various ways.

"I will not," Morgan said. "That would jeopardize the mission—"

"Ah mission s-mission," Pete said, "it's Breeden's mission and he ain't here. Probably dead, which is where we're goin' t' be if we continue. I, for one, believed that native and Boone." The large bearded man leapt to the mules and slit one of the sacks with his knife. A loud clang and clink commenced as the contents of the bag fell to the ground followed by the soft rustle of ground corn.

The men stood silent for a moment gazing at the yellow pile on the ground then they began to laugh. The man holding the knife reached down and picked up one of the shiny round coins. He bit it with his teeth and scratched at it with his knife. The paint came off. He yelled, "Well ain't this just like that blackguard Breeden, trying t' cheat the Shawnee. This is nothing but painted glass and corn meal stuffing."

A roar of disdain arose from the angry men. One man yelled, "This be a fool's errand and I'll have no part of it. Breeden has duped us. If I ever see the man again, I'll kill him with my bare hands."

"Aye," a scar-faced man yelled, "that goes for me as well. Let's take these captives back to Charles Town and hold 'em for ransom." The man snatched Becky about the waist violently before Morgan could stop him. Becky screamed, the children cried out for their mother.

Morgan grabbed Israel and Jemima by their hair causing them to squeal in pain. He then wrapped a burly arm around each child.

Mingo lifted himself on his elbow in the tall grass and peered out at the mayhem. He feared the worse for the family with the pirates fighting over their swag.

Jemima shrieked, "Help! Mingo! Pa! Where are you! Help us!" She kicked at the huge man that was holding her.

Mingo mumbled to himself, "Creator have mercy."

Morgan dragged the children to a nearby rock outcropping and climbed up on it pulling them up with him. "Men, I ain't tryin' t' fool ye. Ye know me. I'm yeer old mate, Morgan the Avenger."

The men clearly agreed, as they cheered, "That's right. Morgan's our man."

"Then why don't ye let me lead ye? Don't ye see? We have three aces here from Boone's deck."

"That's right. We got us some insurance."

"Why don't we jist hold 'em for ransom, Morgan?" Humphrey asked.

"Boone ain't got no money, but he might be persuaded t' help us achieve our goal if his family be in danger."

The man holding Rebecca said, "Yeah, but Morgan, he don't know his family's in danger. I bet this beauty here has a family back east that will pay. The way I see it, these people is all we got to show for this stinkin' trek through hell. What about that Lord Dunsmore that gave Breeden those papers and the gold? Won't he pay?"

Mingo tensed at the mention of his father's name.

Morgan scratched his head. "Can ye see us getting an audience with that Governor in his fancy palace?" Morgan laughed. "No, he'd deny everything and stab us in the back. We'd end up on a prison ship like all those revolutionaries, or worse, dancing the hemping jig. Aye, that's what that fine gentlemen would do t' prove he had nothing t' do with us." Morgan chuckled. "No, sir that be a fool's idea. The Indians will pay for this woman and her children. They always take the women and children and turn 'em into Indians. I say we should keep movin' down this trail. I've still got the paper in my pocket with the King's seal."

"We ain't got a decent pilot," yelled Pete. "It took ye too long t' find yeer way back here."

Morgan looked about and sniffed. "Dawn's approaching. Boys, I know thar's gold waiting for us in New Orleans if we just show up. Real British gold. Even if the Shawnee pay us nothing, they wilt surely take Boone's family as payment t' let us pass. Then we head on down t' New Orleans just like we planned and take that ship the British has built for us. We can vote on who capt'n's her when we get thar. Breeden has cut hisself out by his own deception."

The men whispered and talked low among themselves.

"But, what ye goin' to do 'bout this fake gold? Do ye think Breeden's hidden the real gold somewhere?"

"That I don't know Pete. We sure ain't goin' t' try to pass it off as real gold. We still got the paper, and these people. Did you say Boone took the native?"

"Yeah, but Breeden had talked Boone into coming back down here last I heard. He ne'er shown up, though. While our backs were turned, Breeden and Boone just up and disappeared. They could o' patched their differences for all we know. Maybe that injun's still up on that ridge."

Morgan chuckled. "Maybe if we find the body of Boone's injun, that'll make up for the bad gold. We'll settle with Breeden later, if we find him alive."

"Aye, Aye, Morgan. That's soundin' good to me," Pete said. "We've been in some rough seas and found our way out afore, I reckon these Kentucky woods are no different."

"Yeah, just think of them wolves as sharks," Morgan said.

"Avant!" Humphrey yelled. "I don't swim wit' t' sharks, Morgan. I just catch 'em and eat 'em."

The men laughed, finding courage in the light of dawn.

Mingo had heard all he needed to hear. He was stunned by the mention of Dunsmore from the lips of those pirates. The thought of his own father involved in such activity made him shudder. He was confused but he had to get to Yadkin and stop these men. With a sorrowful heart, Mingo left Becky and the children. At least the pirates' estimation of their value to the Shawnee would keep them alive for now. He pushed with his feet and made his way with great difficulty out of the grass on his back headfirst then started slowly and painfully down the trail towards the river…and Yadkin.

* * *

Daniel and Breeden paddled north through walls of limestone cliffs that glowed white in the moonlight. The canoe glided swiftly with the rapid current of the inky black river. Breeden was quiet for a long stretch. His broad shoulders silhouetted against the moonlit water and the ease with which he handled the oar reminded Daniel of the Ahner Breeden he used to know. A wealthy man that didn't let wealth go to his head; a man who had no problem putting in a hard days work right along side everyone else. He always had an encouraging word and a smile for everyone including the Indians he traded with. A hardworking man that let a little weakness for liquor and gambling get out of hand. His wife, dead, might have been able to stop it. Daniel thought for a moment about what he might have become had he lost Becky. A shadowy figure of himself entered his mind that didn't look very different from the man that sat in front of him now.

"What kind of place is this?" Breeden asked.

"A place you don't want to be in a canoe on a moonlit night. The Shawnee hunt at night and will most likely know we're here. My guess is they will let us pass either because what you say is true or because what I say is true. Either way, we're likely to get by them tonight." Daniel knew one or both of them would not return down the river.

Breeden groaned.

"You itching t' tell me something?" Daniel asked.

Breeden shook his head.

"It would help your chances of survival if you told me the truth, the whole truth. Mingo said you told him the Shawnee had something that belonged to you. Care to tell me what would make you risk your life to retrieve it?"

"My life is worthless," Breeden said in a deep quiet voice.

The response surprised Daniel. "Well, that appears to be the whole truth, but I was hoping for something that would shine a light on what we are walking into."

"You know me, Boone."

"I knew you once as a kind-hearted honest man that would break his own leg before he would let a child of mine get tangled up in a bear trap."

"Yes, I remember that. Jim and Tom's little adventure into the hills…bear hunting." Breeden chuckled.

"Yep. My boy, Jim, knew you as a good man."

"Yeah, well, you repaid my kindness by getting my boy killed."

"Breeden, have you forgotten Jim was killed the same way as Tom?"

"That doesn't change anything."

"I was there. I saw what those renegades did. I buried our boys together…"

"Do you discount me because I wasn't there?"

"Tom tried to find you before we left. You were on a three-day drunk somewhere. He wanted to say good-bye. Tom knew the risks."

"I was never an angel, Boone, but I cared about that boy."

"I know life was unfair to you, Breeden. Losing your wife and your babies so early and then Tom, but from what I saw, Tom had become your property. You indentured him instead of raising him."

"I had little choice. I had nothing to offer the boy. I had gambled away my inheritance, the land. I wanted him to learn a trade and have a chance at a decent life."

"He told me he was running from you."

"That's a lie, Boone!"

Breeden's words echoed off the cliffs.

"Shhhh….Quiet, you'll bring the Shawnee and the Wyandot down on us."

"You're lying, Boone," Breeden whispered.

"You've obviously convinced yourself of that, but I'm just tellin' you what Tom told me and Becky."

"Did he tell you he was leaving two bastard children behind?"

Daniel stopped paddling. "What?"

"Tom got an indentured girl pregnant. He couldn't marry her because of his own indentured contract. When her master found out she was with child, he demanded to know who the father was so that he could sue for damages. She never told. She bore twins, a boy and a girl."

"Tom never said anything about it. I believe he would have done right by that girl and those children. He would have brought them out to Kentucky with him as soon as he was settled."

"Yeah. That was exactly what he was doing. He wasn't running from me, Boone. He was running from the law. He could have been thrown in prison for being party to breaking the girl's contract, or seen it doubled. I bought him out of his bond when I found out. Then I paid the man that held the girl's indenture twice her worth."

"What happen to the girl and the babies?"

"I offered her parents money to cover their expenses. They refused to take money from the likes of me. They wouldn't let me around the children. When I last heard of them, an Indian attack on their village had killed the parents and the girl and the babies had been snatched by a renegade Indian and sold to the highest bidders."

"The Shawnee?"

"Aye."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Ahner, but you're on a fool's mission if your purpose is to take those children from the Shawnee. Do you know who stole them?"

"Some Indian named Big Jim."

"The renegade that murdered our boys."

Daniel nearly felt heartsick for the man sitting in front of him, but every time he opened the door to sympathy, the image of Mingo hung up on that white tree covered in blood slammed it shut. "Breeden, why did you turn to smuggling and butchering? What have you gained? You used to invest in legal merchant shipping and now you captain a pirate ship? Don't try to tell me it's legal business you're about."

"I found myself at the lowest point of a dung hill, and dug in deeper to keep warm. Captaining a ship may seem like a downgrade in occupation to you, but from where I was after Tom's death, it was a mighty big lift out of the dark deep chasm I had fallen in. Now, I may be involved in a little privateering for the British. I won't deny that. Anyone with a ship is these days. I board American merchant and war vessels, turn over the plunder and the ships to the Brits. They pay me and my men well and regular."

"Most men start over, remarry and have another family…"

"Why? So, more innocents can die? I'm jinxed. Boone, there's something you might as well know about me. I'm a fraud. All those stories you've heard about me killing and looting aren't what they seem. They're the stories you hear passed around the taverns and hunter campfires. They've grown larger than life with the re-telling."

"Then why did you beat Mingo? He never did a thing to you to deserve that. You near kilt him just because he refused to guide you to the Shawnee."

"Well, Daniel, perhaps that was a bit of poor judgment on my part. I'm sorry for that and that's the truth. I beat him because he was tied to a tree and couldn't fight back. I took out my anger at you on him. I can be real tough when the other guy can't fight back."

"Those men followed you."

"It's not hard for a man with a little education to outsmart a bunch of low life losers. They're the world's flotsam and jetsam. I've convinced them I'm a fierce Indian fighter and I'll kill a man that so much as looks at me the wrong way. That's just the social order on the sea, Daniel. You have to do what's necessary to survive. Getting rough with your friend was part of that."

Daniel didn't reply. He silently drew his oar through the water and watched the looming jagged cliffs for any movement. They were in dangerous territory now and he wasn't sure if a rain of arrows wouldn't be their welcome.

"A man's got to have a story, Daniel. Didn't I tell you that afore? Back when you were a young feller, a nobody in North Carolina, trying to scratch together a living? I learnt that at my mama's knee when she told me the stories of my proud forbearers and all their many accomplishments. Seems like you would understand that Boone, of all people."

"I can't say that I don't understand the power of myths and legends," Daniel replied. "I've got a few shadowing me, but, there has to be some substance to a man, Ahner. I learnt something different at my mama's knee. It's called honesty. An honest man has nothing to fear. You ain't got no control over what other people say about you, but people can't argue with honesty. Most folks, that matter, respect honesty over wealth. I think you're just trying to get me on your side because you know this mission of yours is a lie. Heaping more lies on top ain't going to make the first lie true."

"Well, I guess I should expect as much from you—preachin' again just like your daddy." Breeden dropped his head, clearly dejected. He pulled up his oar and threw it out into the river. It broke the stark silence with a splash that echoed off the cliffs. The white wood glowed in the moonlight as it floated beside the canoe.

"That's only going to prolong your misery," Daniel said. "Seems like you'd want to get to the Shawnee quickly to prove you're right and see me strung up and lit a-fire."

Breeden didn't answer.

Daniel felt a drag on the canoe that didn't equate to the loss of one paddle. He steered closer to the middle of the river to clear any underbrush and dead trees, but still the canoe dragged. He pulled his oar out of the water and the canoe nearly stopped. The current flowed rapidly past. Daniel reached for his knife at his boot. He felt the back of the craft dip and watched Breeden lifted before him.

Breeden jerked his head around. "Boone, look out! Behind you!"

A wet muscled arm circled Daniel's neck with the grip of a python, then the cold steel of a knife stroked his jaw. "All right," Daniel wheezed, "easy now feller. We've come for a parley with Blackfish."

"Blackfish has no use for you, Boone."

"Blue Jacket? Is that you?"

"It is I."

"This feller with me says he has a deal with Blackfish."

"Blackfish does not deal with white dogs."

"I've come from King George," Breeden said, "I am a British agent. You must take us to Blackfish. He is expecting me."

"I would rather kill you both and dump your bodies in the river. Your bloated carcasses would float to Blackfish. Then he would give me his daughter."

"Blackfish would call you a coward for killing your brother and you would live your life with no woman," Daniel said. "A warrior would fight his enemy face to face before Blackfish to win his daughter's hand."

Blue Jacket was silent for a moment. He laughed. "Very well, Big Turtle, I will prove to Blackfish that I am smarter than the thief, Big Jim. We will go to Shawnee Town." Two canoes filled with Shawnee warriors glided to either side of Daniel. One of the natives thrust Breeden's oar at him. Breeden took the offered wood and the three canoes continued rapidly down the river towards the Ohio.

"Blue Jacket," Daniel said, "why do you mention Big Jim? Is he at Shawnee Town?"

"He is. He has been promised the daughter of Blackfish."

"Would that have anything to do with Breeden here?"

Blue Jacket laughed. "Perhaps."

"This wilderness sure is full of surprises," Breeden said with a sigh.

"Ain't it just?" Daniel said.


	6. Boone's Reckoning 5

**Boone's Reckoning**

When Daniel didn't show up at the rendezvous point by dawn, Yadkin and the Cleves covered their tracks and hid the remaining canoe. They ventured into the frost covered woods in the gray early light.

Dr. Cleves asked, "Mr. Yadkin, do you have a plan as to what we are to do if we come upon these pirates? I do not wish to repeat my previous episode with them."

Yadkin sighed. "Well, dang-it, we are huntin' rabbits with a dead ferret."

Dr. Cleves eyebrows dipped. "Whatever do you mean, sir? What do rabbits and ferrets have to do with this?"

Yadkin grinned. "Don't worry, Dr. Cleves, something tells me we're still a-ways from those fellers. With the way the wind is blowin' this mornin', we'll smell 'em before we get nigh upon 'em."

Before they got far, Yadkin stopped and held his arm out to stop the Cleves. He heard a sound coming towards them on the trail.

"You men be real quiet, now," Yadkin whispered.

The sound grew nearer. Yadkin shook his head, He couldn't figure it out. Something was being dragged towards them as best he could tell. He raised his gun and aimed. Just as he was about ready to ease down the trail and get a look, a hunched form appeared in the shade of the tree-lined trace. "Mingo!"

The Cherokee stopped and looked up startled. Covered with dried blood, he leaned heavily on his gun and held his arm close to his side. Yadkin brought his weapon down and ran towards him.

"Yad?" Mingo collapsed into his friend's arms.

The big trapper eased the injured Cherokee to the ground. "What happened Mingo? Those yahoos do this? Where's Dan'l?" Yadkin pulled the strap of his water flask over his head and looked up at Percy. "Here boy, take this and fill it at the creek."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Yadkin."

"Gone…to Shawnee Town…I think," Mingo said, breathing with some difficulty.

"Shawnee Town? Has Dan'l gone fool-brave? Was he hit on the head or somethin'? Why'd he go and do that?"

"Yadkin, you know as well as I that only Daniel knows the reasons for his singular ways." Mingo looked up at Dr. Cleves. "Who are these men with you?"

"We are friends, Mingo," Dr. Cleves said, "from Williamsburg. We are the hunters those pirates shot at yesterday."

"I thank you for your timely intervention."

"Come on, Mingo," Yadkin pulled Mingo's arm over his shoulder and started to lift him. "Hang on, I'll haul ya to the canoe."

"No, Yad, wait. Those men back down the trail have Becky and the children."

"What? Tarnation! 'Natus was suppose to guard that cabin."

Percy ran up with the water and handed it to Yadkin, who quickly helped Mingo take as much as he could.

"Cincinnatus may be dead then," Mingo said. The sun had cleared the mountains to the east. Mingo looked over the three men above him. "I would be laughing, but it would hurt too much. This dress-up must have been your idea, Yadkin."

"Ah, now, Mingo, we may not be convincing close up, but I bet our getup fooled at least one Indian hunting party."

"Someone stole our canoe last night," Percy said.

"That was probably Daniel," Mingo said. "I'd much rather have three real Cherokee warriors then three made-up ones, but I suppose you will have to do."

"What'cha got in mind?" Yadkin asked.

"Those men are headed this way. You will have your chance to pretend to be natives. We need to climb this ridge where we can gain the cover of some rocks. When the pirates come along, we will pretend to be warriors on the attack. You three just do as I do. I think we will have those seafaring dogs taking to their heels in no time. Daniel's boy, Israel, has them primed and ready." Mingo smiled knowingly at Yadkin who nodded in return.

"Make a lot o' noise, but shoot up into the air." Yadkin said. "We don't want to take a chance on hittin' one o' Daniel's family by mistake."

"Mingo," Dr. Cleves said, "you cannot continue without having those ribs properly wrapped. I am a medical doctor. Let me take care of that. You will feel much better."

"Do we have time, Mingo?" Yadkin asked.

"If it would make me more useful, yes. We probably have about an hour. They have pack mules and the family slowing them down, and they are looking for my dead body."

The doctor put Percy to work shredding a spare shirt from the doctor's haversack. Yadkin carried Mingo to a large tree where he could sit up against the trunk.

The doctor removed Mingo's blood-caked buckskin vest and examined his ribs. They were bruised black and swollen. Dr. Cleves said, "The weapon appears to have been a boot. I can still see the imprint."

"Yes. The man was not interested in hearing what I had to say."

"You are risking your life to save Daniel Boone's family." The doctor took the strips from Percy and began to wrap them about Mingo's injured body.

"Does that come as a surprise to you?" Mingo asked.

"My inclination would be that an Indian would not choose to befriend a white man, especially after such ill-treatment."

Mingo smiled. "Dr. Cleves, out here in the wilderness friends are hard to come by, but a necessity for survival. Daniel has saved my life many times."

"Yes, of course. Tell me if this gets too tight. Mr. Boone told me he considered you a brother. I should have realized the sentiment would be mutual. I have the pleasure of being acquainted with two or three gentlemen of ability and learning, who honor me with their friendship. I suppose city life has separated me somewhat from the deeper meaning of companionship. I can't imagine one of those friends doing for me what you and Mr. Boone are so willing to do for each other. My friendships are quite shallow in comparison: a chest match on a Saturday afternoon, a discussion of politics at the coffee house, a pointless fox hunt…" The doctor shook his head.

"Is Lord Dunsmore one of your chess-playing friends?" Mingo asked.

The doctor looked at Mingo with wide-eyed surprised. "Why yes. The Governor was the one that told me about Kentucky, and highly recommended this trip. He gave me the map I carry. He said he surveyed this land when he was young."

"And that was all he had to say about Kentucky? That it was a fine place to hunt?"

The doctor chuckled and shook his head. "I was crying on his shoulder about Percy. He told me this wilderness turned his son into a man."

Mingo couldn't believe his father would say that. Surely, he was jesting. He thought his father must have something against Meriwether Cleves to send this gentle naïve man out to Kentucky to hunt, or was it just a cruel thoughtless joke?

"So that is why you came here with your nephew?" Mingo asked. "To make a man of him?"

"Yes. He lost his father, my brother, at a young age and I have endeavored to be a substitute." The doctor stopped his work for a moment and looked with earnest pale gray eyes at the Cherokee. "Do I sound weak and visionary to you, Mingo?"

Mingo smiled, and shrugged his shoulders, which caused him to wince in pain.

"I suppose my idealist view of the frontier has led me to believe that mere exposure to the wilderness will make a man out of Percy. I am clearly not equal to the task I have endeavored to undertake. I am trying to instill in Percy an understanding I do not possess. I am not a fool, Mingo, am I? I've always strived to be conscious of my own defects and work to correct them."

"Being a father to a fatherless child is a worthy goal, Dr. Cleves." Mingo watched Percy pacing along the edge of the stream as if on sentry duty. He was dressed in a buckskin coat that was two sizes too big. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. The paint on his pallid white face and the feathers in his hair made him look like a turkey too skinny to shoot for dinner. "Your nephew looks terrified and out of place here."

"Percy is a woman-raised scholar. His overprotective mother kept him close and in school all his life. Enquiry through books can only teach a man so much. There is a point where he has to put down the books and experience the world. Don't you think so, Mingo? You have obviously learned that lesson."

"What did Daniel tell you about me?"

"Only that you were educated in Oxford, England."

Mingo didn't want to tell this man that he was the son of Lord Dunsmore. It would only shatter the good doctor's view of his sheltered circumscribed life in Williamsburg—and give his father the satisfaction of hearing from a fellow blue-blood that his attempt to take this land had failed again.

"A mother's influence should not be so lightly regarded," Mingo said. "Sometimes it is for the best. I can agree with you that experience of the world is required to become a man, but in this world…Percy will either learn, or die."

The doctor frowned at the Cherokee, but nodded agreement.

"Your ardor for you nephew is commendable," Mingo said, "but you can't force a way of life, or a culture on a man. I know this from my own experience. Percy Cleves is bound for the fine drawing rooms of Williamsburg or London. A doctor, a lawyer, a scientist if he is so inclined. A pretty wife on his arm and fine handsome children at his heels. Is that not enough in your world? Is that not the goal of every young man, to succeed and outwardly show that success through the acquisition of power and land and fine homes and a well-placed marriage?" Mingo felt his face flush. He was angry and did not know why.

The doctor looked puzzled at Mingo for a moment. The Cherokee feared he had given himself away—but Dr. Cleves frowned and turned away to gaze upon his nephew.

"I wonder why I cannot just accept that as enough?" Cleves said. He turned back to Mingo. "Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me. I have to say the trip here, if we survive, was worth it just to meet you…and Mr. Boone. I will have much to ruminate on when we return home and much of that will be self-reflection."

"Ah, Daniel Boone, of course," Mingo said with a smile. "At least Percy will have a story to tell as big as any of Daniel's. Let's make sure he has a chance to tell it."

"Well, I believe my work is finished here," Dr. Cleves said. Mingo reached his arm up and let the Doctor help him stand.

"I can do more for you when we get this little task out of our way," the doctor said with a smile.

Mingo returned the smile with a nod. Yadkin handed Mingo his rifle, then put an arm around his waist to help him up the ridge.

Before they got far, Mingo tugged on Percy's sleeve. "Percy, you will have to do the running for me. When it is time for us to run down this ridge towards those men, you need to give it all you have and make as much noise as possible. You can make that noise by screaming, yelling, hooting or whooping. It does not matter. I imagine you have been part of a few college cheers at sporting games?"

"Oh, yes, sir. Quite often. The town complains about us."

Mingo smiled. "Good. You will do fine then. Just remember, this time, we want the town to complain."

Percy returned the smile and stood up tall and straight. "I'll give it my best, sir."

"Lives are dependin' on it, boy," Yadkin said.

* * *

Becky and the children exhausted and beyond tears, straggled down the trail, downhill toward the river. The men at their backs pushed, prodded, and bellowed profanity as if it were a weapon. Becky feared for the two men she most cared for in her life. She ached with worry when the pirates were searching the ridge for Mingo. She pictured her husband, tall and strong facing Ahner Breeden, trying to talk him out of his evil plan. Brave kind-hearted Mingo would most likely have dying on his mind if he wasn't already dead. She gasped and put the back of her hand to her mouth. The frontier had taken so many friends and family before their time. Must they lose Mingo, too?

Becky turned to Morgan who was directly behind her. "Can you not control these men? Even a fool would know not to make so much noise where Indians might be about."

"Ye nary mind these men, woman. They're not hurting ye."

Becky knew she was near the river and she knew there was no crossing. She could hear its distant rush. She worried that the men would force her and the children into the freezing swift water. For a moment, she thought drowning might be a gift from God compared to what the pirates had in store for them. Israel in front of her appeared to be walking in his sleep. Jemima at her side was not in much better shape. She dared not run with these children. Think, Becky, think. What would Dan do? Then Becky heard a familiar sound. The sound of an owl that wasn't from these parts. A sound she had heard Israel practicing for hours on end. Her spirits lifted. Her eyes wondered the ridge above her. She heard it again.

This time Israel heard it too and came awake. He said in a small but solemn voice. "Ma, the Cherokee. The Cherokee have come."

Becky put her hand on her son's shoulder. "Yes, Israel, the Cherokee, indeed."

Humphrey said, "Morgan, what that boy be saying? What's he conjured up now?"

"Shut up, Humphrey. Yeer scared of yeer own shadow."

"What's that?" tall gangly Pete yelled from the back.

"Nary ye mind," Morgan yelled.

A loud shrill cat-like growl stopped the men in their tracks. It came from close by, on the ridge.

Becky walked on with the children, as if she hadn't heard it.

Morgan yelled, "Misses you stop right there."

Becky turned to see his pistol aimed at her. "Would you shoot a woman and children, Mr. Morgan?"

"If I have t'. I've asked ye t' stop, don't make me shoot."

A loud whoop arose from the ridge. Then it grew in loudness as if a chorus of beasts were singing over their fresh kill. The men looked about them, confused. The raucous noise echoed off the ridge increasing in volume and making it impossible to tell from wince it came. It was so loud, some of the men covered their ears.

Morgan turned his pistol towards the ridge, and moved it side to side clearly searching in vain for a target.

Israel turned and stared at Morgan, "Them's Cherokee warriors come for your scalps!"

Morgan backed up as if afraid of the small unflinching form of the small boy. The men began to back up along the trail.

"You best leave now," Israel said.

Gunfire erupted from the ridge, the horrendous noise grew closer, and the sound of broken branches signaled the approach of the hidden assailants.

The pirates broke and ran, dropping everything they had, leaving the pack mules standing in the trail. Morgan was the last to turn and run, but when he turned, he overtook his men and was out of sight in a two seconds.

Becky stood in stunned disbelief. She looked at Israel, who turned and smiled ear to ear. Israel and Jemima ran to their mother and threw their arms about her, shedding tears of joy.

Becky looked back towards the ridge to see two strangers in the silliest Indian getups she had ever seen. She broke out laughing at the sight but stopped, silenced by the sight of Mingo leaning on Yadkin. Dark bruises and lacerations covered his face. His left eye was swollen shut. He was holding his bandaged ribs with his arm. He didn't have the strength to stand on his own. It was clear Yadkin carried his weight.

Tears flowed from Becky's eyes. "Oh, Mingo, no."

"I'll be all right, Rebecca, thanks to the good doctor here."

Israel turned and yelled, "Mingo!" Israel was upon the Cherokee before Yadkin could stop him. Israel with tears streaming down his face, wrapped his arms around Mingo's waist. "We thought you were dead."

"Not yet, Master Boone. Your father seems determined to keep me alive." Mingo ruffled the boy's white hair. "I am very proud of you, Israel. You were very brave. We could not have done this without your help."

Dr. Cleves walked to Becky and took her hand. He bent to kiss it. "Mrs. Boone, I am Meriwether Cleves and this is my nephew, Percy. Please forgive our odd appearance. Mr. Yadkin thought it might be of use, but it appears that it was entirely unnecessary." The doctor smiled. "Those pirates did not do us the courtesy of lingering to observe our disguise."

Becky chuckled and then swallowed hard and said, "Thank you Doctor and Percy. You are a beautiful sight to my eyes. Every one of you. This is my daughter, Jemima." Jemima curtsied to the men.

"A sweeter face, I have not seen in all of Williamsburg," Dr. Cleves said in a soft voice.

"You're from Williamsburg?" Jemima exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes, indeed."

"I have friends in Williamsburg."

"They may be patients of mine," the doctor noticed Jemima was looking at Percy, "or friends of Percy's."

Becky sighed. She left her daughter with Percy, walked to Mingo and Yadkin, and gently embraced each one lingering to exam the cut above Mingo's eye. "What has happened to Dan?"

"The last time I saw him, he was alive and well," Mingo said.

"It seems he snuck by us in the night and stole one o' our canoes," Yadkin said.

"Oohhhhhh…that man!" Becky shook her head and crossed her arms.

Mingo and Yadkin smiled at each other with raised eyebrows.

"Rebecca, I believe he has taken the man called Breeden to the Shawnee." Mingo said.

Becky rolled her eyes. "If I know Dan at all, he'll be trying to turn the devil himself back into an angel. Argh, he tries my patience with his traipsing about the countryside and meddling with the Indians. Yet, I suppose, I do the same to him in equal measure. He will be furious that I was tempted and tricked into opening the cabin door last night."

Mingo shrugged. "It wasn't your fault, Rebecca. Not in anyway."

"We best be getting back to the river," Yadkin said. "We have one canoe. We can send the family and Mingo back to the fort in that. I'll send some men back for these mules."

The group made their way back to the river. When they arrived, they were surprised to find Cincinnatus standing in a canoe of his own.

"'Natus?' Yadkin bellowed.

Cincinnatus looked up. Startled, he lost his balance, nearly falling into the river, but landing instead with an ungraceful thud on his rear in the canoe. "Well, thank Providence. I thought I was nary going t' see a one o' you again."

"Natus!" Yadkin yelled, "Where the blazes were you?"

"Don't you go yellin' at me you big goofy fake Indian. I got t' that cabin too late all because o' you and your cockamamie ideas."

Becky laughed. "The children and I feel blessed to have friends like these, goofy Indians and all, and that includes you, Cincinnatus."

The crotchety old tavern keeper lost his angry frown and smiled. "Where's Dan'l?"

"Don't ask," Yadkin said as he uncovered the canoe. "'Natus, how bout you take the family in your canoe and us boys will follow."

"All right."

* * *

Beneath a blue morning sky, Daniel and Breeden stood before Blackfish. At his side was Big Jim, whom Daniel remembered well. A sullen broad face, with high cheekbones and a distinctive chin. "Big Jim, fancy meeting you here. It was only a few years back you broke bread at my table near the Clinch River."

The tall dark Indian sneered at Daniel then growled, "It was only a few years back I shed the blood of your son and this man's son and made them cry for their mothers. Now I will kill the fathers but not before they have felt twice the pain I inflicted upon the sons."

"Now see here," Breeden said, "we had a deal with the British agent."

Big Jim laughed. "I am your AGENT. You disappoint me. I see Boone, but where is the Cherokee, Mingo?"

"He had a prior engagement and couldn't make it," Daniel said, "he sends his condolences."

Big Jim turned to Blue Jacket for his answer.

"The hairy white rabbits scared of brother wolf came over the mountains. They captured the Cherokee known as Mingo, but Big Turtle freed him. They are now lost in the woods with Big Turtle's family, the redheaded woman and two children. I have seen with my own eyes and heard with my own ears."

Daniel turned his eyes to Breeden and tried to burn a hole through him.

Breeden couldn't meet Daniel's fierce glare. He stared at his feet. "I tried to tell you we shouldn't leave those men, Boone. You wouldn't listen."

"Mingo was right. I should've put a bullet in your head when I was given the chance." Daniel turned to Blackfish. "My father, why do you threaten your son, Big Turtle, and his family? Did we not have a treaty?"

"Big Turtle, you speak the truth, but my young chiefs grow impatient with the continued swarm of white trespassers crossing the mountains from the east. They invade Shawnee land and deplete the bountiful game of the forest with no concern for the ways of the earth. They are as a locust upon the land."

"They will learn, Blackfish."

"They will learn too late, Big Turtle. Shawnee children are hungry."

"What does Blackfish want?"

"Payment."

"In blood?" Daniel asked.

"Big Jim has told me that the settlers continue to come because of you. You are encouraging the trampling of our sacred hunting grounds. You and your Cherokee friend who has helped you and guided you in the ways of this land and his enemy the Shawnee. It was Mingo the Cherokee that showed you the very place to build your fort and saved this land from being snatched from your hands by the white leader, Dunsmore."

Daniel was speechless for a moment with the chief's revelation. Could Dunsmore betray his own son? "So you have made a pact with the British, with Lord Dunsmore?"

"Yes."

"I told you, Boone," Breeden said.

"We will help the British fight their war in return for free trade with their people across the great water," Blackfish said. "It will bring the Shawnee wealth as it has the Iroquois of the north. The Shawnee will never starve or be driven off the land."

"Blackfish, the British may not win this war," Daniel said. "What then? You'll have made enemies of the Americans. They will drive you from the land in hate. Many Shawnee will die. The British will abandon you if they lose. Would it not be better to not take sides in this war?"

"You speak wisely, Big Turtle. I have expressed the same thoughts in the council of my chiefs."

Daniel pointed at Big Jim. "Has this renegade of no tribe convinced you to turn on your son?"

"Big Jim has been good to the Shawnee."

"By cowardly murders and stealing? That man murdered my oldest son before he was yet a man. He deceived me and ate at my table with my family as a friend then plotted to kill my boy and this man's boy. You know what it means to lose your son."

Blackfish turned to Big Jim. "Does Big Turtle speak the truth?"

"I knew of their plans to cross the mountain. Boone was to lead them. I only did what you wanted but was too scared to do. I turned that tide once. I can do it again. Death will make the white man run in fear."

Blackfish turned to Blue Jacket. "What do you say, Blue Jacket?"

"Big Jim is not a Shawnee. He has no loyalty to any tribe, only himself. He should not lead the Shawnee. He is a man who has mastered the skill of deception without the reason to guide it. Blackfish should not believe Big Jim."

Big Jim lunged angrily towards the younger Blue Jacket. "You lie. Who are you to tell me what I am? I have Shawnee blood."

"It is your Cherokee blood I speak of," Blue Jacket said.

Blackfish raised his arms to separate the two warriors.

"Blackfish," Breeden said, "I have a paper here signed by the great white chief, King George, promising to stay off your land and to trade in good faith. You only need to sign it to have the protection of the British army."

"And what of these men you have brought into the Shawnee hunting grounds?" Blackfish asked.

"We are only passing through on our way to the wide western river to New Orleans where a great ship awaits us. We shall establish a trade route for you to sell furs and salted game to the British. We shall be friends."

Blackfish threw his head back and laughed. "Everyone wants to be the friend of the Shawnee, because we stand at the mouth of the two great rivers, the Mississippi and the Ohio. Who will Blackfish pick?"

"This man, Breeden, is a pirate, a thief, an Indian killer," Daniel said. "Is that a man you wish to accept into your council?"

"An Indian killer?" Blackfish asked.

"He is known for his ruthless killing of the enemies of the Shawnee to the north," Big Jim said. "Blackfish must do what is best for the Shawnee."

Blackfish studied Breeden. "He does not have the appearance of a mighty warrior, though great around the chest. His gray fringe tells me he is my age or older. If he had brought me the dead body of the one called Mingo, as was promised, I might have believed."

"Boone interfered to save his friend," Big Jim said. "Have you forgotten that Boone is the friend of the Cherokee?"

Daniel looked with seething anger upon Breeden who averted his eyes and dropped his head. "Breeden, I'm beginning to think truth passes your lips 'bout as often as a dog begets kittens. Are you going to stand here and continue with this masquerade of a pact with the man that tortured and killed your son? Do you not see that Big Jim has deceived you and intended to kill us both?"

Breeden kept his head down and his eyes closed.

"I know Big Turtle is a man of peace," Blackfish said.

"Peace at what cost?" Big Jim said.

"Wait," Breeden said. "I wish to speak."

"Speak then," Blackfish said.

Breeden looked up with weary eyes. His handsome finely chiseled face seemed aged in the daylight. Aged far more than it should be, thought Daniel. It brought to mind the last time Daniel had stood side by side with Ahner Breeden—at the burial of Ahner's young wife. The man he had known had died with her.

"Blackfish," Breeden said, "you seem like a wise man. What Boone says is true. I came here to destroy your peace with the settlers. I have blamed Boone these many years for my son's death at the hand of Big Jim. I was saddling the wrong horse with my hate. I have thrown my life away to get even for that loss. Big Jim stole two babies from the banks of the Clinch river. You have those children now. They are my offspring."

Daniel turned an astonished look upon Breeden. "How could you lead me to believe that they were Tom's? Can you not even leave his memory in peace?"

"I raped that girl in a drunken fit of anger. I tried to right that wrong and only made things worse. Tom was only sweet on the girl. You were right, Daniel. Of course, you were right. I drove my son away from me. Yes, I was going to murder your friend, Mingo. I was driven to do so from the day I saw him with you. It angered me that you befriended the savages that killed Tom."

Breeden turned back to the Shawnee chief and his warriors. "Blackfish, Boone tells you the truth about me. I am a liar and a thief, no better than Big Jim. I came here to get the British bounty on Boone and his Cherokee friend, to get the ship offered by Lord Dunsmore and to trade Boone's family for those children. I brought bags of fake glass gold. This piece of paper is fake. Dunsmore created it." Breeden threw the paper to the ground. "King George doesn't know you or I exist."

Blackfish laughed. "Two lying snakes, Breeden and Big Jim, dancing across Kentucky. It amuses me, but I tell you those children are Shawnee now; they will want nothing to do with you. They live at Chillicothe, far from here. This is only a hunting camp."

"I don't deserve to know those children," Breeden said.

"I understand what has turned your heart cold, your mind to evil plans," Blackfish said. "You are an outcast from the white tribe as Big Jim is an outcast from the Shawnee. I do not agree with what he did to your son. You have been led by a revengeful spirit, looking for atonement to right the imbalance."

Blackfish turned to Big Jim. "A Shawnee warrior does not break bread with an enemy he intends to kill. You will leave our town before the sun rises again and never return. See if the Cherokee dogs will take you in."

Big Jim's face fell from fierce to disbelief. "But, I am to wed your daughter."

"Not while I'm alive."

"There is no way I can right my wrongs," Breeden said. "Let Boone go and do what you want with me."

"What of those men you led here?" Blue Jacket asked.

"They will turn back east when they find me gone. They are as fish out of water."

"You are as a dead man," Blackfish said. "Big Jim has deceived you as well. He was going to burn you alive at the stake. You would have never realized the promise made to you by Dunsmore. He has made an evil treacherous pact with the white man Dunsmore. He stirs the pot of hate until it boils over and burns the Shawnee. For that reason, you will not die this day."

"What do you have in mind for him, Blackfish?" Daniel asked.

"He will remain here as a prisoner and learn the ways of the Shawnee. If he survives, he may be of use to me. Big Turtle is free to return home. His family will not be harmed by Shawnee this day." Blackfish abruptly turned and entered his lodge.

"Live with the Shawnee?" Breeden asked.

"I wouldn't sound too disappointed in that, Breeden," Daniel said. "It's not so bad. A little piece of advice, though, don't let Mingo or I catch you in the woods alone. That goes for you, too, Big Jim." The sullen Indian glowered with dark eyes at Daniel then trudged off.

Daniel turned to Blue Jacket and tipped his coonskin cap in farewell. "Blue Jacket, I leave the man in your capable hands. Looks like your prospects for marriage with the chief's daughter have just improved."


	7. Boone's Reckoning 6

**Boone's Reckoning**

Daniel returned to his canoe, alone, and started back upriver for home. The day-lit blue sky changed the black river to a warm emerald green. The dark violets and blues of the night wood had transformed into shades of gray punctuated by scattered golden-leafed saplings clinging to their leaves protected from the winter wind. Patches of snow blanketed the green mossy banks of the river and dressed the bare tree limbs. The long hunter was weary from lack of sleep but unable to rest. He worried about his family, about Mingo. Would he find them alive? If alive, would Becky and the children be there or had they returned to North Carolina and the safety of Becky's family?

After several hours on the river, he reached a point where his arms could no longer pull the oar. Leaning back in the canoe, Daniel fell asleep under a noon sky.

A thunderclap startled Daniel awake. Rain pelted his face. He was disoriented and uncomfortable, lying in a pool of water in the canoe. The noise had awakened him from a nightmare—the image of his father angry, approaching him with a belt and closed fists. Daniel knew that as a bad omen in his life. Deep despair covered his thoughts like a death shroud.

It was day, but the clouds were dark and ominous. He had fallen asleep at noon with a bright blue sky above his head. Had a day passed? Or two? He sat up in the canoe and looked around trying to get his bearings. The canoe was snagged on dead trees along the shore. He was thankful for that or he would have returned to the Shawnee. Blackfish might have changed his mind if given a second chance.

Daniel pulled some stale bread out of his haversack and chewed on the crust. He reached out for a handful of the cold river water and took a drink, then splashed two handfuls on his face. He felt the whiskers on his cheeks that told him he was at least two days from his last shave. They must all think me dead. Becky will surely have left for her family in North Carolina…if she is alive.

Picking up his oar, he freed the canoe from the debris then leaned it to one side and pushed as much water out as he could. He continued his journey home.

When he reached the place where he had embarked with Breeden on the river, he pulled into the shore and stepped out on to the muddy bank. There were tracks all around, but the rain had nearly erased them. In a near fit of madness, he studied the tracks closely, dashing about trying not to obliterate them. His heart leapt in his chest when he made out the children's and Becky's small prints. He fell to his knees in the mud and cried out to the heavens, "Are they safe or dead at the bottom of the river? Almighty let me find them all alive. If I've made a mistake, I will gladly pay, but not this, not now. You know I cherish that family and my dearest friends. Let me see their smiling faces again though I don't deserve it."

Guilt rattled his mind. Had he sacrificed everyone that mattered to him with his insane desire driven by years of guilt to make Ahner Breeden see the truth? He remembered Mingo's painful words telling him to shoot Breeden. Had he forsaken his closest friend by leaving him behind? Mingo, whose father apparently wanted his son killed—that thought sickened Daniel.

He arose from the muddy bank of the river and climbed stiffly back into his canoe just as the rain turned to sleet that stung his exposed face and hands. The temperature had dropped below freezing. On his knees, he forced the oar through the water, fighting the strong current. He felt alone in the world and sadder in his heart than the day he had buried his oldest son, James.

* * *

Daniel stepped through the open door of the tavern at the fort into warmth. He leaned Tick-licker against the wall then pulled off his coonskin cap and found it frozen stiff. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, they fell upon the soft face of his red-headed pretty wife, Becky.

"Dan! Thank God!" Becky ran to her husband and threw her arms about him. Jemima followed close behind her mother. Both were too tearful to speak. Jemima laughed and cried all at once.

"Oh Becky," Daniel said with a sob, his face buried in her hair. "I'm so sorry. Can you forgive me? I didn't expect you to even be here. I thought you and the children might be…"

"Poor Dan," Becky said with a sigh and a shake of her head. "We were about to send out a search party for you. No one had given up hope that you would return." Becky looked up into Daniel's eyes and smiled. "Dan, you have good friends looking out for you and your family. Why must you always think it's all about you?" She ran her hand through Daniel's disheveled hair and down the nape of his neck. "You've come home. That's all I ask." The tears fell freely from Becky's bright blue eyes.

"Yadkin and Mingo? Tell me they are alive and well."

"Yes and new friends, Meriwether and Percy Cleves."

Yadkin called out from the bar with a big grin on his face, "Of course we're alive, Dan'l. What do you take us for? Greenfish?"

Daniel looked around and saw Percy Cleves telling a story to some new friends, patrons of the tavern. On the opposite side of the room, white-haired Dr. Cleves sat near the fire in Cincinnatus's best chair. A chair that Cincinnatus only dragged out of his own quarters for very special visitors. The doctor looked up and smiled at Daniel.

"Where's Mingo?" Daniel asked.

"Over by the fire," Cincinnatus said from behind the bar, "I thought I best keep him down here where we can keep an eye on him."

Daniel separated from Becky and Jemima.

Jemima laughed. "Pa you best put some of that Kentucky mud back or we won't have anything to plant the corn in this spring."

Daniel didn't understand his daughter at first until he saw she was looking him up and down. He looked down and saw the source of her mirth—mud covered him from head to toe. He slipped out of his heavy coat and hung it along with his haversack and powder horn on a hook by the door. "Better, 'Mima?" he said with a wink.

She giggled and ran off to sit next to Percy.

Daniel stepped to the fire where he found Mingo lying on a pallet, apparently asleep with a sleeping Israel in his arms. He gazed upon Mingo's cut and bruised face, the wrapping about his ribs. His heart sank at the sight. It looked much worse in the firelight than it had in the moonlight, though the absence of the blood provided some relief.

"Mr. Boone," Dr. Cleves said, "I am most pleased to see you alive and well, though you appear to be greatly fatigued. Perhaps you should take this chair awhile." The doctor arose and helped Daniel to the chair.

The frontiersman smiled. "Thank you. I believe I owe you fellers a 'round o' drinks."

"That can wait until you are rested." The doctor followed Daniel's worried gaze. "Your friend will mend. I gave him a painkiller that has the unfortunate side effect of profound drowsiness. He has been asleep for nearly two days."

"Two days? Thundering rabbits. Can I have some of that?"

The doctor laughed. "I think that would be in order."

The doctor placed his hand on Daniel's shoulder. "He's very strong. He'll be fine."

"Yes, of course. It's the state of his mind that has me worried. He was facing death head on for hours with those men before I got to him, and still willing to sacrifice his own life for me. Breeden was going to kill him just for spite... and believe it or not, that's not the worst of it."

"Well," Doctor Cleves said, "I believe he has a truly good friend--a brother--equal to the task of assisting in his recovery." The doctor smiled and walked off to join his nephew.

Israel awoke and looked sleepily at his father for a moment. "Pa?"

"Yep. It's me, hon."

Israel got up and climbed into Daniel's lap.

"You all right, boy?" Daniel asked gazing into his son's clear blue eyes.

"Yep. They tried to kill Mingo, Pa."

"I know."

"Did you go see Chief Blackfish?"

"Yep." Daniel's eyebrows cocked upwards. "He said to tell you howdy-do."

Israel grinned. "No he didn't. Don't be tellin' whoppers, Pa."

Daniel frowned in mock outrage.

"Daniel, good to see you alive," Mingo said in a quiet voice.

"I can say the same about you--though, I've seen you a mite better looking. Too bad it's not spring, we could plant you in the corn field to scare off the crows."

Mingo smiled. "We could put you at the hen house. The foxes would mistake you for a bear that's been rolling in a pig sty."

Daniel frowned and sniffed. "That bad, eh?"

Israel laughed

"I bet I am a scary sight," Daniel said. "At least Israel still knows me."

"Did you bring that outlaw wolf back into the pack?" Mingo asked.

Daniel looked puzzled at his friend.

The native's one good eyebrow rose. "I can see that self-satisfied look upon your face as well as any man."

"Mingo, you are mistaken. That is relief you see on my face. Relief that Almighty Providence saw fit to let me find my family and friends safe and sound. I thought you were the sacrificial lamb for my errant past for a very long dark moment that I shan't soon forget."

"So what happened?"

"It's a long story. I think it would be best for you to be well and recovered when I tell it."

"My father sent Breeden here."

Mingo's words surprised Daniel. He hesitated to reply. "You know then?"

"He had some involvement with it. I heard the pirates speak his name."

"Let's converse on that subject when you're well, all right? You look to me like you need a bit more than two days rest."

The Cherokee sighed and turned his dark eyes upon the crackling fire.

"So," Daniel yelled, "someone want to tell me what happened while I was gone? Mingo, seems like I remember telling you to stay put. I don't think anyone here did what I told 'em to do. Should I be thankful for that?"

"I can tell ya, Pa," Israel said. "I saw it all with my own eyes."

"What happened to Breeden, Dan'l?" Yadkin asked as he walked up with a hot rum and handed it to the weary frontiersman.

"Ah, perfect, Yadkin. And I feel like drinking it this time." Daniel took a long sip of the drink. "Blackfish decided to give Breeden another chance at life…as a Shawnee."

"No, you don't say?" Cincinnatus said, walking up beside Daniel, wiping his hands dry on his long white apron.

"Yep."

"Dan'l, is it true that Breeden ran a store just like mine back in the Carolinas?" Cincinnatus asked.

"Yep, among other things. He was an enterprising man."

"You just cain't trust them dry goods mercheents," Yadkin said. "They're all land pirates as far as I'm concerned." He looked smugly down his nose at Cincinnatus.

"Is that so?" Cincinnatus crossed his arms and faced Yadkin. "Well I'll tell you who cain't be trusted. It's yahoos like you that steal an honest man blind whenever his back is turned."

"'Natus, are you callin' me a thief?"

"If the shoe fits…I dare you t' empty your pockets."

Yadkin looked wearily at Daniel.

"It's just a little bit o' jerky, 'Natus," Yad said. "That's hardly goin' to break you."

"Humph." Cincinnatus slammed his fist to his hip, looked at Daniel in exasperation and stuck his thumb at Yad. "I tell ya, that there'll drive an honest man to savagery and pirating like nothing else."

Daniel smiled at his friends. He looked across the room at Percy who was swinging his arms about and talking to a group of locals hanging on his every word. "That boy don't look the same as I last saw him. Looks like he's got himself a story."

Yadkin laughed. "Yep, his mouth has been going non-stop since we got back to the fort. He's tellin' 'em how he…and a few friends," Yadkin winked at Daniel, "scared off a whole pack o' pirates by pretendin' to be Indians."

Daniel's jaw dropped as he realized what Yadkin had done. "You mean to tell me that was you sitting at that fire wrapped in that Indian blanket with those feathers in your…"

The trapper twirled the end of his blond moustache and smiled. "Yep, me and the fearsome Cleves."

"Well, I'll be--"

Israel sat up in his father's lap. "Pa, let me tell ya."

"That's right, Pa," Mingo said, "let Israel tell you. He filled your shoes while you were gone. He has practiced on me for hours but I keep falling asleep on him. He needs to tell his story."

"All right, Israel, I'm all ears." Daniel sat his rum down on the hearth and settled back in the soft leather chair.

"Well, Pa, you see there were these fierce pirates and …well, they grabbed me and Jemima and Ma…"

Daniel frowned. "Did your Ma open that door?"

Israel hesitated. "Huh? I didn't see that Pa…they marched us off into the woods…then they heard the wolves howling and I told 'em those wolves were going to eat them alive…"

Daniel chuckled as he closed his eyes.

"Are you listening, Pa?"

"Yep. I'm just listening with my eyes closed, Israel."

"All right then….them pirates had big swords and gold rings hanging off their ears…but they got all scared when they heard the wolf's howl…and then you know what happen then Pa? That big bad pirate didn't know to look for the north star, he got us lost, and then he got all mad at me for telling him how to find the north star…

"Do tell?"

"I'm telling it the way I know it. Well we came upon a whole herd of them pirates and they were mean and nasty…"


	8. King and Pawn 1

**King and Pawn**

"Ambush! Shawnee!" Yadkin thundered from the front of the mule train.

A deafening disorienting chorus of human screams and yelps splintered the warm afternoon air. The crack of gunfire followed. Balls of death whizzed overhead, splintered trees, kicked up dust at the mules' feet spooking the animals into a braying bucking frenzy.

Daniel Boone dove under nearby brush at the base of an incline. He sprawled prone on the ground, his gun cocked and aimed. Sh…Boom! A charging yelping Shawnee fell to the ground not ten feet from him. "Mingo! Yad!"

"I am here, Daniel," Mingo answered from his left.

"Over here, Dan'l," Yadkin called from his right.

As he was reloading Tick-Licker, Daniel turned his head to find the rest of his party only to be blinded by the dense dust cloud kicked up by the mules. He spat the grit from his mouth. "Cincinnatus! Jericho! Ed! Harry!"

A hand rose cautiously from behind one of the animals. The skinny legs of the Boonesborough tavernkeeper, Cincinnatus, wiggled below the mule's belly.

"Guard that gold, boys!"

"Ed and Harry are down, Mr. Boone," Jericho cried from behind with the quake of youthful fear in his voice. "It's just me and 'Natus back here."

Daniel fired off a shot at a blur of moving leaves then scrambled back to the mules before reloading.

"Dan'l, we're surrounded," Cincinnatus whined. "Ed and Harry are dead. I say hang the gold. It's time to retreat with our lives. Let's send these mules in the direction of those varmints. That'll distract 'em and let us escape."

Retreat. Daniel hated the idea of it but he knew his cautious friend was right. They were two men short and too far from Salem and not close enough to Boonesborough. He could see before him the brief puffs of smoke from Mingo and Yadkin's rifles. They defended doggedly from their hidden positions up the verdant incline from the trail, but balls whistled by his head from behind.

"Yad, Mingo," Daniel yelled, "Come on, boys. It's time to get. We're leavin' these mules. If we get separated, head for Salem."

"But the money, Dan'l," Yad yelled. "That's a year's worth o' everybody's pelts. If the Shawnee don't kill us, the settlers in Boonesborough surely will for lettin' 'em get this load o' gold."

Daniel berated himself for allowing the settlers to talk him into trading the pelts for French gold coins. Those people were hell-bent on self-destruction and there were days when he just didn't want to fight it anymore. They wanted hard coinage to bury in their yards because they were scared of the rumors of war with England. Stupid.

"Yad, do what I tell ya! Save your neck to fight another day."

"Dad-blame it, Dan'l!" the stubborn mountain-born man drawled. "We can hold off these yahoos. I've got two powder horns full here."

"Yadkin, you heard Daniel," Mingo's deep voice boomed above the din. "I'll cover you. Move back."

There was a long moment with Shawnee bullets peppering the ground in which Daniel considered whether to drag Yad from the bushes or leave him behind. Finally, his willful friend came rushing down onto the trace—a six-foot-two straw-haired twisting buckskin tornado nearly knocking Daniel off his feet.

"All right, Mingo," Yadkin hollered. "I've got ya covered."

Cincinnatus slapped the rumps of two of the mules and sent them running westward towards the pursuers. Mingo crashed through the brush as Yadkin provided cover fire.

"We gotta get Ed and Harry," Yadkin yelled as he rammed a new ball into his rifle, "or they'll be scalped."

Daniel glanced at the fallen men not ten paces from him. They each lay in great pools of blood that joined between them. The ringleaders of the rush to hoard gold.

"Yad, we're all easily plucked chickens sittin' in this trace."

"Dan'l! They have wives and children. Are ya gonna give those thievin' Shawnee the gold _and_ the courtesy of two trophies?"

"I don't want to lose any more friends. Ed and Harry are gone. You--" Daniel turned and found Yadkin bearing down on him with the broadside of his rifle. The brawny trapper shoved him away with the force of a bull then crouched, pointed his gun up and fired a blast of fire and smoke into an overhanging tree. A painted Shawnee warrior fell screaming to the ground; he landed with a bounce sprawled at Yad's feet.

Daniel readied his weapon and pivoted in a three-hundred-sixty turn looking for more jumpers. "Mingo! Cincinnatus! Jericho! Let's get!"

Yadkin stared with his mouth gaping for a moment at the lifeless black eyes gazing up at him then he exhaled the breath he had been holding. "Holy heathen from heaven." In his belated wrath, Yad addressed a seething monologue to the dead Indian.

Moving up the trail, Daniel gave his ranting friend a 'thank you' slap on the shoulder as he passed him. "Load your rifle, Yad. Let's go."

"Yah! Yah!" Cincinnatus began whipping the mules into a fury sending them in a trot down the trace. Jericho joined in. Firing blindly they each fired over the backs of the animals then ran up the trail to reload allowing another to fire. They made their way out of the trace and climbed back into foothills of boulders and cliffs where they watched as a group of red-feathered Shawnee warriors met the fleeing mules with yelps of joy and dances of glee.

Daniel spotted among those warriors a white face--a grinning darkly handsome face looking him square in the eye. Recognition hit the frontiersman like a thunderclap. He aimed his rifle and centered the white demon in his sight, but he was too far away to fire. The grinning target lifted his rifle to his shoulder in response. He aimed first at Daniel as if mocking him, but then pointed his gun elsewhere. "What is he aiming at?"

"Yadkin!" Cincinnatus yelled. "Get your foolish behind up here."

Daniel followed the rifle's aim; it led to Yadkin dragging the two dead bodies up the trail.

"Yad, get down!" Daniel shouted.

A single shot reverberated through the hills and yellow-maned Yad fell to his knees. His startled blue eyes locked on Daniel for a moment then he tipped forward and fell like a tree onto the dusty trail. Mingo jumped up and fired at Daniel's left, Jericho fired but they were too far away.

"Hello Daniel," a deep lilting voice resounded as if it rose from the bowels of the earth, "it's me, your ole buddy Ahner! I wanted to thank you personally for introducing me to these red gentlemen and thank you kindly for this gift of gold as well. I have found new purpose. You are a swell pal, Daniel Boone. Do not be concerned for your friends' scalps there. We are quite satisfied with what we have. Good day to you and give my regards to the family!"

"Ahner Breeden," Mingo hissed.

The fine hairs rose on the back of Daniel's neck. Breathing hard, he pushed himself up from the hot boulder beneath him. On numb shaky legs, he stumbled down the trace towards Yadkin, dragging the butt of his rifle in the dirt. Rage burned his throat.

Cincinnatus scurried past him and reached the fallen man first. He gripped Yadkin about the back of the neck. "He's alive, Dan'l, but he's got a ball in his back. Yad, you durn fool why cain't you do what you're told!"

Yadkin whispered painfully, "'Natus, you cain't make a Carolinian do what he don't want t' do."

Daniel dropped his gun and fell to his knees by his fallen friend who was so covered with rusty dust he looked one with the trail. He slipped his arm under Yad's chest to lift him out of the dirt, but Cincinnatus clutched his shoulder and gave him a sharp look of reproach.

"No, Dan'l, don't move him."

Daniel could feel his friend's heart beating rapidly against his hand. "Argh! Yad--" His voice broke with a sob before he could get out the angry dressing-down he intended.

"Stop it," Yad rasped, "don't be gettin' all gushy on me. I don't need none o' that." With one sideways swipe of his powerful arm, he shoved the frontiersman in the chest knocking the breath out of him and tipping him over on his rear-end.

"Yad, be still!" Cincinnatus hollered as he was trying to examine the hole the ball created in Yadkin's back.

Daniel gasped for air then exhaled a laugh. "I ought to know better than to get too close to a wounded b'ar." He took a deep breath and swiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeve.

"Was that the same Breeden that caused you and Mingo so much trouble?" Jericho asked.

"It is the same, Jericho," Mingo answered for Daniel.

"Breeden?" Yadkin asked with pain in his voice as he rolled his head over. He peered at Daniel with bright blue eyes like marbles in the dust.

"Yep. It was Breeden that shot ya." Daniel reached over and brushed back the yellow curls from his friend's face and studied his dilated eyes that weren't quite focusing. Yadkin was drifting from consciousness, his skin was cold, his lips were blue. "Cincinnatus can you dig the ball out?"

"No, Dan'l," Cincinnatus said with a cautious glance at the frontiersman, "it's too deep."

"'Natus, you have to try!" Jericho cried.

"I'd kill him for sure, boy," the older man whined.

A wave of fear and nausea bubbled up from Daniel's stomach when he noticed the rapidly growing scarlet patch of blood on Yadkin's buckskin coat. "Cincinnatus staunch his bleedin'!" The words tore from his throat like a barked order on a battlefield startling everyone including the injured man who jerked beneath his hand.

The tavern keeper narrowed his gray eyes and arched one grizzly brow. "Dan'l you're welcome to take my place if'n you think you can do better."

Daniel ripped off his coonskin cap and threw it aside. "I will if I have to!"

"Daniel," Mingo said calmly from behind, "is there not a surgeon in Salem?" The Cherokee laid a firm hand on his friends shoulder. "We took a boy from my village there last winter that had been shot in the chest."

"That's right, Mingo," Cincinnatus said, "there is a surgeon in Salem, but how the heck are we to get Yad there?"

"You'll take him," Daniel said.

"On my scrawny back? Dan'l, all us together can only move him at a snail's gallop."

"We'll build a litter."

"You expect little ole me to haul this big boy on a litter back up through the pass and over the mountain?" the tavern keeper complained.

"Cincinnatus, you'll take Yad to Salem, you hear?" Daniel growled. "I don't care how you do it, just do it!"

The frontiersman looked off at the rising rocky terrain above them. He knew all eyes were on him at that moment and they were questioning his sanity.

"Dan'l?" Cincinnatus wimpered softly with tears in his gray eyes. "It cain't be done. It'd be plumb torture for poor Yad."

Daniel inhaled deeply and exhaled a ragged breath through parted lips. Why was he so mad? Who could he be angry at but himself? Ahner Breeden, a dark clawing shadow resurrected from his own tragic past was alive and armed because he didn't shoot him months ago when he had the chance. The burning question smoldering in his mind, though, was how much of the blame for Breeden did he share with Lord Dunsmore?

"Well," Daniel said, "then you and he'll have to wait here 'til someone comes up this trail. Let's hope it's not those Shawnee backtrackin' for scalps."

Cincinnatus swallowed hard. He looked at Mingo. "What about Mingo and Jericho?"

"They've got to warn the rest of Kentucky about that murderer."

The big man used his gun as leverage to push himself to his feet. He swept his hand down and picked up his cap and flopped it back on his head. Cradling the long flint-lock across his arm, he looked down at his injured friend. Yadkin was watching him with calm indifference as if he had accepted his fate. It ached to leave him.

"What're you goin' to do Dan'l?" Cincinnatus asked.

"Goin' to Williamsburg."

"Williamsburg?" Cincinnatus asked incredulously.

"Yep. I'm goin' to pay the right honorable his lordship Dunsmore, the Governor of Virginia, a visit."

"I will go with you, Daniel," Mingo said.

"It's not your fight."

"I beg your pardon. Those Shawnee were trying to kill me too and if Lord Dunsmore has anything to do with it, I'd like to hear the reason for it as much as you."

"Suit yourself; they're your legs, Mingo."

"Jericho?" Daniel called looking around for the boy.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Boone?" The tall youth was shyly tugging one of the mules up the trace.

"Sadie?" Cincinnatus sobbed. "Why you old stubborn girl. Did those yappin' Shawnee not suit ya? Come to your pappy." The mule walked languidly up to the tavern keeper. The wiry man jumped up and hugged her neck then grabbed a bottle from her saddlebags. After removing the stopper, he tipped the bottle up and took a long swig before returning to his patient. "Hallelujah, Yad. You've been reprieved, boy. Sadie's goin' to take ya to Salem."

"No!" Yadkin coughed and sputtered in the dirt. "Dan'l don't let that lopped-eared quack pour fire water on me."

"Easy, Yad," Daniel said, "Do what Cincinnatus tells ya. He's the doctor 'round here." Daniel smiled and winked at the grinning gray bearded tavern keeper.

"Why can't y'all just let me die in peace?" Yadkin whined.

Daniel sighed deeply and dropped his chin to his chest.

"Yadkin," Cincinnatus said as he knelt by the injured man, "I'm goin' to overlook your inconsiderateness for now see'in how you are in pain, but I'm not goin' to forget it." The tavern keeper and part amateur doctor with newfound confidence drew a handkerchief from his pocket. He wetted it with the alcohol then folded it neatly. "You chomp on this a bit, and then I'll make sure that bullet hole don't ripen into a infected patch o' death. Come on now, buck up."

Daniel pulled Jericho aside. "Boonesborough has to be warned, Jericho. It's up to you to sound the alarm. Get all the families into the fort. Then send runners to Harrodsburg and Chota. Can I count on ya?"

The youth wrinkled his smooth brow and swallowed hard but nodded agreement without flinching. Daniel gave him a confident slap on the back.

"Mr. Boone?"

"Yep?"

"Will Mr. Yadkin make it?"

Daniel hesitated. He wanted to speak the straight truth of his thoughts, but he knew Israel and Jemima would hear his words repeated by Jericho. Even though Yad yet breathed, Daniel knew from his own frontier experience with gunshot wounds that his troublesome friend would not likely be greeting him upon his return. "I don't know, boy. He's strong as two b'ars, but I think the ornery cuss needs our prayers this time. Help Mingo and me build a litter. We'll send Cincinnatus and Yad off to Salem, and then we'll bury Ed and Harry."

"Yes, sir."


	9. King and Pawn 2

**King and Pawn**

Daniel and Mingo hastened over the Alleghenies, coursing northeast towards the Virginia capital. With the mountains at their backs, they descended, drenched by rain, scorched by sun. Eating pemmican on the run, they made cold camps only when fatigue hung like lead weights about their ankles. They traveled in silence, allowing well-worn habit and familiarity to lead them.

Without any signpost, gate or demarcation, they left the wild overgrown trails and raced over freshly smoothed leveled roads that still had the marks of pick and spade at their fringes.

The land grew tame, furrowed, fenced and tidy. They sprinted by green pastures of sheep, goats, oxen and cattle, trotted past lumbering wagons driven by dark-skinned Africans and leapt out of the path of galloping post riders. They met the sons of plantation owners out for a leisurely sport and open carriages of pale maidens with beribboned hats and light summer gowns going on a visit. Preferring a bed of pine needles near a cool stream to such convivial fair, they left the populace of circumscribed lives to speculate about the two wild frontier companions who passed without a word.

* * *

After six days, they had left Richmond in their dust and were within a day of Williamsburg. It was near dusk when Daniel came to a sudden halt and stood quietly in the middle of the wide well-worn wagon road that led to their destination.

"Camp?" Mingo asked seeing the weary lines etched across his friend's forehead.

Daniel nodded. "Too far from town. I'm beat." Gazing up and around, he studied the spear-leaved treetops with early stars peeking through their branches. He pointed to a rise above the road, "There."

After building a fire, Daniel tugged his boots off and shook dirt out of them.

Mingo walked off in search of a stream. He found one but what he saw there sent him trotting back to camp. "Shawnee on the road, Daniel."

"Trackin' us?"

"Not exactly. Come see."

Daniel struggled to get his boots back on his feet as he followed Mingo to the edge of the rise. Soon, twenty tall lean natives walked by in solemn silence from the direction of Williamsburg. They wore no paint, but each sported the dreaded Shawnee scalp lock, ear adornments and a rifle strung across the back. One older man, wrapped in the blanket of a chief, walked in the middle of the group. After they passed, Daniel asked, "Who was that chief?"

"I don't know," Mingo said as he braced his booted foot on a rock outcrop and leaned on his gun. "It was a stranger's face."

"Headed home to the Ohio Valley?" Daniel asked.

The Cherokee shrugged. "I would think a northern Shawnee would have taken a northern route home, but where have they been? They are far from their home fires."

Daniel removed his coonskin cap and scratched his head then pulled the cap back on. "Odd to see Shawnee this far east."

Mingo hesitated to voice his real concern. He felt the muscles in his neck, arms and chest tighten, his jaw clench, as the Shawnee led his thoughts to Lord Dunsmore. It took all his will to run towards his many-faced father. Daniel didn't miss it.

"You've either picked up the scent of b'ar or you're thinkin' on your father," Daniel said.

"Perhaps they were holding council with Lord Dunsmore."

The frontiersman sighed and dropped his head on his arm that rested on the top of his gun. He stroked his whiskered cheek then rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. "Did you find a stream? I need to wash off some of this trail dirt."

"Follow me."

* * *

It was nightfall and seven days since the ambush on the Cumberland Trace when the traveling Kentucky duo strolled into the darkened streets of Williamsburg. The sleepy shuttered town celebrated their arrival with silence.

"Are we to awaken the governor from his sweet slumber?" Mingo asked.

"Nope. I want him wide-awake. First, we need to scout out the particulars."

They heard a rumble approaching and voices. Daniel pushed Mingo into the shadows then joined him. He peeped around the brick wall at their back to see a torch-toting hallooing mob walking with a horse drawn wagon. The unsteady wooden conveyance creaked and moaned. He pulled his head back into the shadows and waited until the noisome group passed.

The flickering torches illuminated the wagon's contents. A limp man sat hunched over atop a large mound of hay. He was attired in a fine suit of clothes complete with feathered hat, buckled shoes, stockings, gloves and white wig that shown bright in the moonlight.

"Daniel, what is their purpose?" the Cherokee whispered.

"If it's what it looks like we're goin' to see a big fire soon."

"A celebration?"

"Not exactly. Come on let's follow. They're headed for the governor's residence."

The two men kept to the shadows of the alleyways between the tidy houses and shops that lined the palace green. Dogs barked, a cat screeched as it was disturbed in its languid self-bath by Daniel's boot.

The mob halted just in front of the Governor's Palace and positioned their wobbly wagon under a large elm. A rope was hoisted over a tree limb and the man in the wagon was strung up by the rope.

Mingo grabbed Daniel's arm. "Are they hanging him?"

"Nah. That's a straw man made up to look like the governor."

"An effigy?" Mingo asked.

"Yep. I believe that's the scholarly word for it. Look, the palace is all lit up. There must be a party goin' on inside."

"I hear music. Is this show part of the party?"

Daniel chuckled quietly. "I doubt it, but it may give us an opportunity to get inside." He led his reluctant companion closer.

Dancing flames licked up from the wagon. The mob became a loud jeering throng as the blaze grew beneath the straw man making him dance and cast fiendish shadows on the walls of the palace buildings.

"Hey, Governor Dunsmore, we have a present for you!" a voice boomed startling the two hidden onlookers.

"Come on out Governor!"

Laughter erupted from the demonic revelers. The flames popped and sizzled. Daniel felt the heat on his face. He missed his friend and turned to find him in the shadows of the alley. "Mingo? Come on. When the guard comes out to shoo off these pranksters we'll sneak in."

The native was silent.

"It's just the town's boys and ne'er-do-wells havin' a lark."

"Why would they do such a thing, Daniel?"

"Probably some grievance with the governor. Might be they don't think much of his curfew."

"Do they intend to harm him?"

"Not with this. Come on, now. It's our cover."

Daniel felt Mingo's muscle tense has he grabbed his arm to pull him forward.

The crash of breaking glass accompanied the yells and whoops of the protesters. The boys were hurling rocks and bottles. They pummeled the gated brick wall that enclosed the front garden, but when an object hit the face of the palace door with a thud, a cheer arose.

"Oh, Governor? Would you be afraid of your constituents, dear Governor?"

"Might your friends let you come out and play?"

The defiant threatening voices were clearly not seeking real dialog with the King's appointee that occupied the Governor's Palace.

There was a rush of pounding boots and the jangle of soldier equipage from both sides of the palace. Uniformed men massed with bayonets flashing in the torch light. Barked orders formed the soldiers into two neat rows in front of the palace gates, and with staccato precision, the first row leveled their muskets at the threatening crowd.

The clatter of horse's hooves announced the appearance of an officer on horseback. "Vacate the King's property now or face the consequences!"

Checking his horse in front of the line of soldiers, the mounted man slowly drew his sword from its sheath. The animal pawed at the air and tossed its head as if he was of the same mind as his master.

The boys had a new target for their rock throwing and didn't hesitate to put their attention to knocking the red-coated officer from his horse.

"You are breaking curfew," the officer yelled as he ducked one of the projectiles. "Return to your homes at once or you will be spending the rest of the evening in the public gaol."

The ruffians laughed and jeered at the soldiers and continued to throw their rocks and bottles.

"A perpetual itch to you foul bloodybacks."

"Go home with ya, yeer not wanted here."

"Come on General and shoot. That's what you really want to do isn't it? Shoot us unarmed English citizens down like dogs."

"Citizens? You are nothing but blood-sucking mosquitoes in pond scum! Get off this green I say!" The man raised his broad sword and slammed the flat of it against a tall boy's back sending him yelping to the rear of the mob. "You want more?" The officer kicked and his horse lunged forward. The protesters retreated a few steps but defiantly held their ground.

A blue flame leapt upward with a roar engulfing the straw stuffing of the effigy. The dangling menace became a ghostly silhouette formed by the clothes, wig and hat. The officer's horse whinnied and reared up on his hind legs.

"I will order these men to fire upon you if you do not disperse this instant." The fire's flare illuminated the horseman's livid face. Daniel recognized it at once as Major Halpen, the governor's aide, whom he had bested in an impromptu sword fight.

The major calmed his horse and continued, "I have every right. You are threatening the governor. I am charged with his protection."

A townsman pushed his way to the front of the mob. His coat and vested chest with matching britches identified him as a town shopkeeper. In a deep voice he yelled, "Is it too warm for the governor? Pray inform your Lord Dunsmore if he wishes not to hear our demands then we shall surely be charged with providing him with the fine gift of a coat of tar, which is a good bit warmer."

The mob roared.

"Assure him that he will not be underdressed for the occasion as we shall also furnish him with a mantel of feathers." The man doffed his tricorn hat and bowed deeply to the officer.

The crowd cheered the speaker.

"Mingo, come on let's head around back and see if we can get inside." Daniel tugged at his friends arm to pull him away from the confrontation on the green.

* * *

The two woodsmen found the back door open and unguarded. They hid a long moment behind sculptured boxwoods quietly observing the yellow-lit interior glimpsed through the door; the scent of magnolia blossoms permeated the hot sticky air they breathed.

As they stepped silently in their buckskin boots onto the uncarpeted plank floor, the murmur of guests in the adjoining room and a stringed minuet reached their alert ears. Separating the rooms were closed tall paneled doors.

Besides the oversized splendor of the room with it's lofty ceiling, abundant decoration and windows and doors twice the size they needed to be, there was a bounty of sweetmeats arrayed on tables to tempt the visitors. A great punch bowl sat at Daniel's right. He picked up the silver ladle and took a sip. "That's laced with Kentucky corn whiskey. Mingo, I think we may find Governor Dunsmore wide awake and liquored up through those doors."

"We are uninvited guests, Daniel."

"Do ya think they'd shoot uninvited guests?"

"If those are uninvited guests out front, I have no doubt of that."

Daniel grinned. He approached the doors and tried the knob. The door easily opened with a slight click of the latch. The rhythmic shuffle of dancing feet and the scent of lilac water rushed in through the crack he made. "Odd--this door being unguarded and unlocked?"

"Yes, that is very strange."

"Well my dear Cherokee friend, I'm afraid we are inappropriately dressed for the occasion. We'll just have to offer our apologies." Daniel propped his gun against the wall and pulled off his shot bag and powder horn.

"Why are you leaving your gun?"

"I don't want anyone to fire out of fright. I suggest you do the same."

Mingo reluctantly pulled the shoulder strap of his gun from his arm and placed his weapon against the wall.

Daniel pulled off his coonskin cap, tucked it in his belt then swung the two doors full open. He and his companion stepped into a dizzying swirl of bright colors. The walls and carpet vibrated in turquoise and orange. Brightly appareled guests, most adorned with powdered wigs, filled the room. Light danced from flickering brilliant candelabras. Young men and women arranged in rows earnestly faced each other in a longways for eight; others watched the dancers from the perimeter. The tall newcomers went unnoticed.

"Pardon me, ma'am," Daniel said to a short round matronly lady. She turned a smiling powdered and rouged face up towards him but immediately fainted into her husband's arms.

A loud scream pierced the festive air. Another woman fainted and fell against another to Mingo's side startling him. He instinctively grabbed the handle of his knife. The music stopped, the dancers stopped and all eyes, frightened wide, fell upon the buckskin-clad frontiersman and his feathered friend.

"Please, no need to stop the festivities on our account," Daniel yelled. He offered the crowd a friendly grin. "Has anyone seen Governor Dunsmore? Could y'all please tell him Daniel Boone wants to speak at him?"

The hushed crowd began to buzz then they parted like a herd of sheep revealing two British marines and a sergeant standing sharp as steel before them with cocked and aimed pistols.

Daniel put his hands out to show the menacing military men that he meant no violence. "Now, gentlemen, hold on there, I just need a minute of the governor's time. There's no need for those firearms. You're scarin' the ladies. Did you know your backdoor's not secured? Mayhaps you ought to tend to that."

Mingo caught sight of the governor lurking behind the sergeant. The Cherokee hunter's heart quickened upon spotting the prey. Candlelight flashed in the governor's eyes as he stared unblinking at Daniel like a night animal in a fire hunt. Mingo tapped the back of his hand against Daniel's arm and pointed out the hidden object of their visit.

"Hey there governor. It's me Daniel Boone. Mingo's here, too."

The red-coated sergeant said stiffly, "Governor, we shall fire upon your order."

A familiar voice called from Daniel's right. "Daniel Boone? What a delight, and doubly so with Mingo." A hand reached up and grabbed Daniel's lifted hand as it hung in the air. A tall distinguished gentleman stepped between Daniel and the threatening guns. It was Dr. Meriwether Cleves smiling broadly, with flashing gray eyes, his eyebrows raised in wonder. He was just as Mingo remembered him, though he was dressed in a powdered white wig and his town clothes, which were five degrees more sober than the rest of the guest's apparel.

"Howdy, Dr. Cleves," Daniel said as he shook the offered hand. "It is mighty fine to see you as well. How've you been? And your nephew, Percy?"

"I am quite well, Mr. Boone. Percy is on a tour of Europe. I expect his return next month when he will apply for the bar. He is to be a lawyer."

"Well, I'm sure Virginia can use another one o' those."

As the men were talking, the guests began to relax and murmur. They pondered Daniel and Mingo as if they were animals on display but the startled fear left their eyes.

"Sergeant," the governor said, "at ease. Perhaps you should tend to the garden door."

"Yes, sir."

Governor Dunsmore in a rich violet coat trimmed with gold braid approached and offered his hand to Daniel. His rings, brass buttons & cufflinks glittered in the candlelight. The man was all velvet and gold, and clean as a new bar of soap, but Mingo knew there was a hardened British general under all of that foppery.

"Captain Boone," the governor said, "please accept my sincerest apologies. I did not at once recognize you. My guards are a little excitable these days."

"Well, sir, I can understand that with all that commotion goin' on in your front yard."

The guests' voices rose clacking like a panicked flock of chickens.

Two men, with arms raised and dancing shoes tapping, rushed through the entry hall to the front room windows. They soon returned. One hollered in a high-pitched voice, "They are burning an effigy of the governor on the green. Those heathen rebels!"

The governor smiled and raised his hand to quiet the crowd. "It is only the pranks of the young, ladies and gentlemen. My marine guard will quell the disturbance in short order. There is no need for concern."

Dunsmore clasped his hands behind his back and glanced at his new Cherokee guest. "This all must seem bizarre to you, Mingo. Please allow me to apologize for the reception." The King's appointee turned about to address his guests. He stood straight as a ramrod, regal in comportment. In a smooth voice of authority he announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the distinguished Kentuckian, Daniel Boone, and his companion, Mingo of the Cherokee. They have traveled all the way from the Kentucky territory to see me. Imagine that?" (Chuckles arose from the guests) I must leave you for a while, but please continue the dance. You will find food and drink in the supper room. Enjoy yourselves."

The guests slowly obeyed. The music began, the dancers formed and Daniel and Mingo were soon forgotten.

Dr. Cleves offered Mingo his hand, "Mingo, I am honored to be in your noble presence. I never imagined when I left Kentucky that I would see you again. This is indeed a pleasure."

Mingo shook the soft supple hand cautiously, afraid he might squeeze it too hard. He smiled uneasily at the gracious doctor.

"I told the governor," Dr. Cleves continued, "all about you and what you did for the Boone family that fateful day when Percy and I made a hunting trip to Kentucky. Percy is still sharing that story with anyone that will listen. Governor Dunsmore, this is the very Mingo. Isn't he a wonder?"

"Oh yes, Dr. Cleves, I completely agree," the governor answered with a cool smile. "Mingo is a wonder and I am equally astounded at his appearance here tonight. Please gentlemen, let us retire to my office upstairs."


	10. King and Pawn 3

**King and Pawn**

Dunsmore led Daniel, Mingo and Dr. Cleves up a monumental pine staircase through soaring Roman arches to a dark room with gilt embossed leather-covered walls. The aroma of sweet tobacco filled the air.

The Royal appointee promptly positioned himself behind his massive wood desk adorned with the royal coat of arms carved in the front panel. This was his domain and he was taking full advantage of it, but the towering broad shouldered frontiersman standing like a tree in the middle of the room could not be denied.

Only Dr. Cleves sat down. After flipping his coat tails out of the way, the elegant physician sat and crossed his legs revealing his fine silk stockings and polished leather shoes with brass buckles. He looked at ease as if he was a frequent and welcomed guest of the British royal governor.

A small ebony-colored young man entered and addressed the governor, "Master, shall I bring refreshments for your guests?"

"Yes, Othello, of course. Brandy, port or beer gentlemen?"

"Nothing for me," Mingo answered.

"The same for me," Daniel added.

"Bring the doctor and me our usual brandy."

The servant bowed and backed out of the door shutting it behind him.

"Do you find the Virginia habit of slave labor a comfortable fit, Lord Dunsmore," Mingo asked as he scouted the perimeter of the room peering at the paintings arrayed on the wall. A fox-hunting scene featured his father dressed in a kilt standing with his hand out inviting the viewer to partake of the gentle Virginia woods. Next to it an engraving of a Cherokee village complete with docile Cherokee. The royal appointee apparently had a taste for artistic half-truths.

"Yes, well, it is expected in Virginia. You cannot pay help without being chastised for it. When in Rome do as the Romans do." The governor chuckled quietly and the doctor followed suit.

Dunsmore sat down in the high backed chair behind his desk. He exhaled a long breath, tugged on his vest, adjusted his silk cravat and appeared to relax. "Well, gentlemen, what brings you so far from home?"

"A man named Ahner Breeden," Daniel said. "Heard of him?"

The governor pursed his lips. He shook his head slowly and glanced nervously at Mingo surveying the decor. "I've known a Breeden. He was a prominent citizen, a plantation owner. The husband of Widow Breeden who lives on the west side of the green nearby. Elegant woman. I cannot at the moment recall his name. It was Gilford or Goslin--"

"Gosner Breeden?" the doctor asked.

"Yes. Thank you, Meriwether."

"Gosner was the father," Daniel said. "So his widow, Ahner's mother Ahlouette, is here in Williamburg?"

"Oh yes," Dr. Cleves chirped gaily. "She relocated here after her husband died. The tobacco plantation was a burden. There was no heir to my knowledge. She sold it and is living handsomely on the proceeds. Mrs. Breeden is a patient of mine; well thought of in the community but she doesn't socialize much due to a weakness in her back. What is this about Mr. Boone?"

"Mingo and I were with a party of men guardin' a shipment of money bound for Boonesborough. That money was payment for a year's worth of pelts. The sum total of Boonesborough's income. We were attacked by Shawnee led by Ahner Breeden."

"Oh heavens, what a fright," the doctor said as he leaned forward and gripped the clawed ends of his chair arms. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Two men are dead, a third, whom you know, a Mr. Yadkin, was clinging to life…" Daniel stopped and dropped his eyes to the blood-red carpet at his feet. He put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath.

"Mr. Yadkin?" exclaimed Dr. Cleves. "That dear colorful backwoodsman? I understood him to be a good friend of yours."

"I'm not feelin' like much of a good friend to Yad right now," Daniel grumbled as he put his palm to his forehead for a moment.

"No one who has met Mr. Yadkin could possibly forget him," Cleves said with his voice falling in volume. "That must have been dreadfully heart-wrenching. Did you actually witness this man Breeden shoot your friend?"

"We did," Mingo said as he studied Cleves.

The slave returned with a small tray. He quickly distributed the drinks then retired soundlessly.

The governor swirled the brandy about in his snifter then took a sip. "Captain Boone, I fail to see the connection to me or anyone in Williamsburg. I doubt that Mrs. Breeden has any idea what her son is about. Did you know of the son, Meriwether?"

"No," Cleves said sharply. His brow furrowed. "I had never heard his name before other than in connection to Mr. Boone when Percy and I were upon our misadventure in Kentucky. Mr. Yadkin said that you and Breeden knew each other, Mr. Boone. I did not make the connection with the Breedens here in Williamsburg."

"Governor," Daniel said as he stiffened his back and held his head high, "I am seeking your help in recovering Boonesborough's money and capturing Ahner Breeden."

"Are you suggesting Captain Boone that the King's forces are to be employed as common constables?" Dunsmore asked with a gurgle. "You are merely squatters on land that the King deems his own. How can that be justified?"

Daniel did not answer. He dropped his head and stared at the floor.

Continuing on his reconnaissance of the perimeter of the room, Mingo had reached the wall behind his father. The muffled yells of the altercation on the green seeped through the heavily draped window at his back. He bent down close to his father until he could see the short hairs in his ear and said, "We know you sent Ahner Breeden with a bevy of pirates to Kentucky to arrange an alliance with the Shawnee."

The governor, startled by his son's deep voice at his ear, leaned forward and placed his brandy on his desk. "I have merely carried out the King's wishes in all my actions, but foremost, I have done nothing that was not in the interest of this colony. I will certainly inquire of my subordinates if they may have employed this Breeden in the past, but I do not see how I can be of assistance to you with your current predicament."

"You deny knowledge of Ahner Breeden?" Daniel asked glaring at the governor with piercing eyes under a furrowed brow. The frontiersman's chest heaved with each breath.

"I told you I knew Gosner Breeden. He was a prominent landholder, not a common trail bandit as you are describing. Obviously, the Ahner you speak of is merely a reprobate from a good family. I do not wish to darken the last days of Mrs. Breeden by making public his reprehensible actions. Why those rags they call newspapers here would trumpet it until the name of Breeden was akin to arraignment at the Bailey."

"What business did you have with the father that you would still hold such concern for his widow?" Mingo asked.

"Business?" the governor asked as he fumbled with a ring on his hand and crossed his legs.

"You said you knew Gosner Breeden. That would mean some transaction occurred between the two of you. You do not have casual acquaintances."

Dunsmore drew in a long agitated breath, put a ring-adorned finger to his forehead and closed his eyes. "He owned a large tobacco plantation in southern Virginia. A capable, industrious and frugal landowner." The governor's eyes flashed open as he slapped his hand upon his knee. "Of course. I remember now." He took a deep breath and exhaled it sharply. "A grandson was murdered by Indians in an earlier accursed attempt to settle Kentucky. I worked with the tribes to find and procure the culprits for the purpose of putting them on trial, but the linchpin was elusive." Dunsmore took a long sip of his brandy.

"Big Jim the renegade?" Daniel asked.

"Yes. How do you know that name?"

"Daniel's son, James, was murdered with Breeden's grandson," Mingo said.

"Captain Boone?" the governor asked surprised. "I was aware there were other victims but I had no idea that your family was involved. Were you there as well?"

"I was down the trail from where it happened."

"That event launched a string of reprisals that stretched from South Carolina through Ohio," the governor said. "I dare say we are still living with the reverberations of that clarion call."

"I'm aware of that, sir," Daniel said keeping his eyes pinned on the governor.

Mingo resented Daniel's 'sir'. "You deny sending assassins into Kentucky to kill Daniel Boone…to kill your son?" the Cherokee growled.

Dr. Cleves bolted to his feet. "What are you saying, Mingo? I don't understand. Daniel is not the governor's son."

"Pardon me, Dr. Cleves. I am the governor's son," Mingo answered smiling at the flustered physician.

Cleves turned startled eyes upon Dunsmore. "John, is this true? Those pirates and that man they call Breeden laid unhallowed hands upon Mingo, and may I go so far as to say, attempted murder. I witnessed his wounds and treated him myself. They kidnapped Mr. Boone's family, his wife, and daughter and young son. If Mingo is your son, I would think you would feel some personal stake in this. Am I wrong?"

Dunsmore turned his head to look up at Mingo with angry squinted eyes. "My dear son, it is most discomforting that you think I could stoop to the base and cowardly crime of assassination. I would sooner shoot myself then participate in such a dishonorable act."

"I never would have believed it but for having overheard your name on the lips of pirates," Mingo answered.

"Breeden indicated he had an agreement with you," Daniel said. "Or did you make your pact with the renegade Big Jim?"

Daniel was pale. His accustomed jovial expression had faded into a worried pallor; his crooked grin had fallen into a crooked frown. He was still grieving Yad and probably inclined to give up in the face of Dunsmore's wall of deception. Mingo was angry at his father's insensitive dismal of Daniel's direct requests. The native imagined cracking and prying his father's head open like a gourd and yanking out the truth.

"Big Jim was the murderer I was seeking to extradite," Dunsmore moaned. "If he had come into my presence he most certainly would have been immediately incarcerated and tried for those heinous sadistic murders."

The governor stood abruptly and inhaled a deep breath. He turned upon Mingo. Fatigue lined Dunsmore's face. He did not speak but merely stood and stared with stabbing pale eyes that locked on his son for a long moment then he turned about to face Daniel. He held himself erect and unflinching when he said, "Captain Boone, I assure you, upon my honor, that I never gave any order to kill or harm a single soul in Kentucky much less the Boone family and my own son. There may be treachery involved, but it is not my own."

"It is never your own!" Mingo trumpeted as the pent-up venom rushed to his tongue. "The blood is never on YOUR hands."

The door to the room flung open and the sergeant entered.

"Do you need assistance, Governor?"

"No, Sergeant Quincy," Dunsmore answered waving the man off.

The sergeant clicked his heels and saluted. "I found these gentlemen's' firearms where they left them and thought I would bring them up. I will leave their accoutrements outside the door here."

"Thank you, Sergeant," Daniel said.

The seasoned soldier nodded and shut the door as he left.

Daniel took two long strides across the room to reach Mingo. He laid his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Come Mingo, it's late. We're keepin' the governor from his guests. He has the facts. Perhaps he'll reconsider my request."

The weary frontiersman addressed the governor, "Sir, may we see you on the morrow?"

"Come as you like. I cannot leave this garrisoned fortress."

"Dr. Cleves, we take your leave," Daniel said despairingly with a slight bow of his head. "Until tomorrow?"

"Of course, Mr. Boone," the doctor answered. With both hands, Cleves shook Daniel's rough callused hand affectionately and gazed steadily into the weary frontiersman's eyes. "Mr. Boone, please accept my heart-felt condolences. You must feel helpless in the face of such unwarranted violence. I knew Mr. Yadkin but a short while. In that evening of darkness in Kentucky, I became intensely aware of my weaknesses and dependant for my life on that wry woodsman's fearless resolve and strength. I was not disappointed. Does he have a family?"

Daniel smiled and shook his head. "Just me and mine." He quickly strode to the door and left the room.

Dr. Cleves stopped Mingo as he passed. "Mingo, you could have told me you were Governor Dunsmore's son."

"He does not like to claim me, Dr. Cleves, and I abide by his wishes." Mingo glanced over his shoulder at the governor who did not meet his gaze. Then he followed Daniel out of the room.

Dr. Cleves lingered with the governor after the Kentuckians left. He waited until their footsteps on the stairs receded.

"John."

"I know what you are going to say, Meriwether. Do call me tactless again. I feel the label fits me now more than ever before."

"Murders in Kentucky are not helping your condition. Can you not spare a few men to assist them?"

"What men? My regiments have been reassigned to the north with General Clinton. All I have is a company of marines. They are impressive to look upon but they can barely protect me from the rabble outside much less chase renegades across Kentucky."

"Is Mingo the son you have told me about? The one you hoped to take your place some day here as royal governor?"

"It was a father's dream, Doctor."

"Was? Is there some contention between the two of you?"

The governor laughed. "Can you not tell what that might be when you see the two of us together? He has thrown his inheritance in my face, scoffed at my titles and my empire, purposely interfered in my attempts to tame that wild and violent frontier. He is the fruit of a proud Cherokee tree."

"I thought the Cherokee sided with the British."

"All but one, apparently. The one that I most needed to side with me."

"What about Mr. Boone's politics?" the doctor asked. "Is he partisan or loyal?"

"I have no idea. He will walk across fiery brimstone for those settlers in Kentucky, but I do not know his stand on this conflict between the colonies and the King. Perhaps he is so far from civilization he has no knowledge of the shots fired recently in Massachusetts."

"I was impressed with Mingo," Cleves said, "the first time I laid eyes upon him and heard his voice." The doctor chuckled. "He was tied to a tree and that Breeden fellow was haranguing him. Even under duress, he has a presence about him, composure under fire that is enviable. Now I completely understand. He is your son."

"Meriwether, my son was a bright lad. His world collapsed when his mother died. He blames me. I only wanted him to be as convincing as an Englishman as he is as a Cherokee and claim his rightful place as my heir. Was that so wrong?"

"Before I met Mingo, I would have said no, you were a gracious father, but now? Perhaps it is wrong to attempt to change a young man's natural place."

"His natural place?" The governor asked as he removed a silk handkerchief from his vest pocket and dabbed his forehead. "I knew he would return a chief of the Cherokee. He simply refuses to step into the role to which he was born. He would rather hide from life as a common warrior who spends his days hunting and fishing and horse stealing." The governor snapped the handkerchief in the air. He folded it and placed it carefully back in his pocket.

"Oh. I see. He was to bring the Cherokee into the happy fold of the empire and is seemingly unaware of the purpose of his existence."

The governor squinted obliquely at the doctor as if puzzled.

"I meant it appears that he is derelict of his duties, but perhaps he only lacks awareness of the world at large and current events given his isolation. Have you told him what you are telling me?"

"Not in so many words. His mind is closed. I suppose he listens to his friend, Boone--an uneducated backwoods simple man who cannot possibly see the potential for greatness in Mingo."

"Mr. Boone is a good man, a wise man in his own homespun way."

Dunsmore dropped his head. He planted his hands on his desk and leaned upon them as if heavily burdened. "I do not mean to belittle the poor man, especially after what he has just experienced. I lack your sensitivity, Meriwether. It was drummed out of me at the Royal Academy long ago."

"That is as expected of a military man as a compassionate bedside manner is expected of me."

"Mingo just has a higher purpose then hunting deer and trapping beaver," Dunsmore spat. "My friend, I tell the truth when I say I am powerless to help them. If they had only shared my foresight when I attempted to assert British control over Kentucky. I could have prevented this lawless grab for land and the consequences of it. They have made me their weak opponent instead of a strong ally."

The governor gave a great sigh then pulled a piece of foolscap from a drawer. He sat down and picked up his quill pen. "Doctor, I must prepare a dispatch. Pardon me; will you give my apologies downstairs?"

"Certainly, John. Good night."

"Good night. Meriwether?"

"Yes."

"I cherish your friendship and your insight. You have been my anchor in rough seas. I hope I will be in a position to repay that someday."

The doctor bowed to the governor and exited the room.


	11. King and Pawn 4

**King and Pawn**

Daniel and Mingo left via the front door of the palace to avoid disturbing the aristocracy in the ballroom. Outside the air was cooler, but heady with smoke; the walled front garden suspiciously tranquil. The embers of the charred remains of the straw man and wagon glowed through the wrought iron gates that led from the palace grounds to the green.

A steady tramp of boots alerted them to two uniformed guards patrolling at the gate. The soldiers glanced towards the frontiersman and his Indian companion, but made no move to prevent their passing, apparently believing them invited guests.

Daniel nudged his companion and pointed towards flickering lamplight in the windows of a nearby advance building. "Looks like someone else is awake this evenin'."

"It is probably just the guards, Daniel. You need rest my friend. I thought you might have fainted upstairs if you had lingered a minute longer."

"If we'd lingered a minute longer, you'd have strangled your father."

"Perhaps, I overstepped my bounds, but I could not just stand by and let him think he had gotten away with murder. His refusal to even consider helping to apprehend this Breeden--"

"No, Mingo, you tried and I'm grateful for that, but I'm still without an answer, or the help we need, and not where I should be—in Salem." Daniel sighed deeply and turned towards his friend. "Have I sacrificed Yad in vain?"

"Daniel? Yad yet lives. Come," Mingo gripped the frontiersman's elbow, "let's return to camp. You need rest."

The frontiersman stood his ground pulling his arm free of his friend's grip. "I can't rest until I have the truth. Sleep hasn't come—won't come—Do you remember Major Halpen?"

"Of course. He was the officer on the horse threatening that mob."

"He'd have reason to hold a mighty grudge ag'in me."

"Enough to pay someone like Breeden to kill you? He was just an overzealous commissioned officer out for glory. You knocked him down a notch, but--"

"I bet that's his quarters."

"But Daniel--" Mingo said as his friend left his side and trudged off towards the building. The Cherokee reluctantly followed.

The hunter found the single paneled door to the brick building unlocked. He pushed it open and he and Mingo stepped directly into the presence of red-coated Major Halpen who was seated at his desk intent on his writing. His goose-quill pen flicked rapidly in his left hand. Casually, he looked up at the intruders apparently expecting a subordinate; his face froze in fright.

"Surprised to see us alive, Major?" Daniel asked as he approached the desk.

The Englishman jumped up from his chair with pen in hand. "Captain Boone? What a surprise. Mingo. Faith, is that incorrigible man, Mr. Yadkin, with you as well?"

"He's fighting for his life right now in Salem," Daniel said. "Shot in the back."

"I'm sorry, but given his impetuousness that really doesn't surprise me."

"Ahner Breeden." Daniel said.

"What? Who?" The flustered officer asked. The major offered his right hand and Daniel squeezed it tight.

"Ahner Breeden," Daniel said. "You know the man."

"I say, what makes you think that?"

"Your sweaty palm."

Halpen jerked his hand away from Daniel's grip.

"We know everything," Mingo said as he approached the nervous aide cutting off any possible escape. "There is no point in denying it. We have just shared what we know with the governor."

"Damn and Blast!" The major fell back in his chair and threw his ink-filled pen on his desk. He slammed his fist down and ink splattered everywhere. "The governor wasn't supposed to know."

"Keepin' his coat tails out of the mud like a good servant to the Crown?" Daniel asked.

"You have the wrong idea."

Daniel sat down on the edge of the desk and turned the upset inkwell back up on its bottom. "Well explain then. We're listenin'."

"I was blackmailed--threatened with the governor's murder," Halpen whined. "Breeden demanded gold and a ship. I gave him a substantial ransom of gold and a fake letter from King George, but it was not in my power to supply anyone with a ship. I just did what I could."

"You didn't tell the governor about this?" Mingo asked. "Do you have any idea how many lives you put in jeopardy with your foolish action?"

"My only allegiances are to the Crown and Governor Dunsmore." Halpren looked from one man to the other pleading with his wide dark eyes. "Please, the governor knew nothing of this. I shall be court-martialed if he finds out. I have a family--young children. I hold no animosity towards either of you or the colonists. Honest. They were going to murder the governor. They knew where he was hidden--"

"Hidden?" Mingo asked.

"Yes, hidden," the Major barked. "Do you not know there is a colonial uprising a-foot?" he asked incredulously as he jerked on the bottom of his vest and pushed back the loose lock of dark hair that had fallen on his forward. "My, you wilderness fellows are certainly without equal for sticking your heads in the sand—or should I say quicksand? The governor has no force here to protect him. They can effortlessly overpower his guard, take the palace and throw him in prison…or worse. The only thing keeping them from it is that the governor confiscated their gun powder from the magazine."

"Take the palace, grab the governor. Sounds like a brilliant strategy to me. Shall we?" Mingo said to Daniel.

Daniel smiled at his friend. "Mingo, is that vengeance gettin' the better part of familial love?"

"Well Major," Daniel said, "I sure would hate to see a good officer like you wastin' away in prison. That'd be a shame. It took nerves of iron to face that mob. Perhaps Mingo and I might consider helpin' you if you could see your way to help us."

"In what way?"

"You mentioned gold."

"Yes, two hundred pounds of British gold I put into the hands of that pirate."

"Where did you get that gold?"

"It was a special tax I collected from the people of Williamsburg after the governor was forced to pay the colony for the gunpowder he confiscated."

"You mean, on your own, you had the nerve to go door-to-door and demand money from the residents here and call it a tax?" Daniel said with wide-eyes.

The major opened his mouth to answer but apparently thought better of it and looked down to avoid Daniel's stare.

"Why wasn't this money missed after you gave it to Breeden?" Daniel asked.

"I keep the cash books."

"Oh my, Major Halpen, you certainly have chocked up a list of punishable offences to the Crown," Mingo said as he crossed his arms and sat down on the corner of the desk opposite of Daniel.

"So Breeden paid this gold to the Shawnee?" Daniel continued.

"How should I know? He spoke as if he was directed by a British agent with the Shawnee, but I knew of no such agent."

"What specifically did he do with the gold, Major?"

"Packed it on some mules then he and his band of filthy rogues left town headed south."

"Did you see them load those mules?" Daniel asked pointedly.

"Yes, with my own eyes."

The frontiersman removed his coonskin cap and twirled it between his fingers for a moment. "Major Halpen, here's my proposal--we help you smuggle the governor to a ship. You help us get our nine hundred pounds back from the Shawnee, and capture Breeden so that he may be tried in a court of law. The trick is for us not to upset the colonial leaders or the Shawnee."

Halpen guffawed in disbelief. "I'm supposed to think that you and this Indian can save the governor better than I?" The major's face grew red, his voice loud. "Why should I care about your nine hundred pounds? Are you trying to blackmail me, Captain Boone?"

"Calm down, Major," Daniel said resting his large hand on the agitated officer's shoulder. "Let me explain. Ahner Breeden attacked us a few days ago on the Cumberland Trace. He killed two men in an ambush. After takin' possession of the gold, he shot my good friend Yadkin in the back for no reason at all. He stole from us the equivalent of nine hundred pounds in gold, which is probably going a long way towards appeasin' the Shawnee as he only brought bags of painted glass gold with him to Kentucky."

"What? Why that blackguard!"

"Precisely," Mingo said smiling at his co-interrogator. "I believe that is exactly what his cohorts called him when they discovered the ruse."

"What did he do with my gold?" Halpen asked.

"You mean Williamsburg's gold, don't you Major?" Daniel asked.

"Yes. Yes. Of course."

"That's where I may be able to help you. I think I can recover that gold," Daniel said. "That would eliminate one charge against you--theft. You'll have to take up the rest with the governor."

Halpen quaked. Rivulets of sweat formed at his temples and ran down his carefully trimmed black sideburns.

"Do you know where Breeden stayed when he was here?" Daniel asked.

The major inhaled a deep breath. "No. He just appeared at my door as you just did. On my faith, that gold could be buried anywhere in or around this town. I scarce see how you can possibly recover it without Breeden's help."

"True. So will you help us find and seize Ahner Breeden?"

"Captain Boone, I have few men here. The governor can not weather his entire guard disappearing in his hour of peril."

"Of course. Then we must see to his safety first, and then pursue our joint interests."

"How do you propose to do that and not inform him of your intentions?"

"Were you not plannin' to take him to a ship for safety? Those were marines lined up to shoot those treasonous rebels on the green."

"Yes, but that is upon his direction when he is ready to go. When he goes, he intends to go to his hunting lodge first."

"This lodge. Is it far from here?"

"It is near the York River."

"Few people know about it?"

"Correct. Only his closest friends."

"And Ahner Breeden?"

"That is unfortunately correct also."

"Is Dr. Cleves a close friend of the governor?"

The major's forehead wrinkled. He looked down and clasped his shaking hands together. "Yes."

"Where does Dr. Cleves live?"

"That large white house just across the way. He practices out of a ground floor office. It is clearly marked by a sign over the door."

"Thank you." Daniel released the man's shoulder and re-donned his coonskin cap. "We'll take our leave now. We'll be payin' the governor a friendly visit in the mornin'. I will encourage his immediate departure. That mob looked frightful to me. They're workin' their nerves up for somethin' much bigger."

The major leaned forward on his elbows and threw his head into his hands. "My God, my God, the world is falling apart."

"So grim, Major?" Mingo asked. "Do you not have the power of the whole British empire at your disposal?"

"Those misfits and malcontents return every night to enact the same performance. They have worn me down until I can scarce keep my wits about me. I can only imagine what it is doing to the governor."

* * *

Daniel and Mingo closed the door of Halpen's office behind them leaving the royal aide mumbling to himself. They stood in the yellow glow of a wall-mounted lantern. Mosquitoes buzzed and darted at it. Mingo tried to stifle a yawn.

"A mite weary my friend?"

"It has been a long day, Daniel. What if Dunsmore escapes in the night? The major there was not exactly enthralled with your proposal. He could just grab the governor and run."

Daniel gripped his native friend's shoulder firmly and pulled him from the lighted door step. "Mingo, your father is tellin' us the truth. He knew nothin' of Breeden's plans or actions in Kentucky."

The Cherokee looked askance at his tall friend. "I have more the tendency to believe that the major and the governor are both lying. Halpen's story was just a little too rehearsed." Mingo rolled his shoulders to loosen them. Was it his father or his friend's obstinacy making him tense all over?

The frontiersman remained silent.

"You've seen the tricks Dunsmore can play and justify with the eminence of the Empire," Mingo snapped. "You just heard what he did to the people here. He stole their gunpowder and paid for it with their own money."

Daniel's eyebrows rose. "He's a mite arrogant. Let's see--he has dissolved the House of Burgesses, confiscated the gunpowder, ordered special taxes—well we can't rightly count that since Halpen did it."

"Tried to steal Kentucky," Mingo added.

Daniel chuckled. "I'm just sayin' I believe him in regards to what happened with Breeden in Kentuck. Someone else is behind that. Someone who wants Dunsmore disgraced if not dead."

"That miserable subordinate in there?" Mingo chuckled. "Lord Dunsmore leaves a wake of such people in his path. It appears that we are all gathering here to bring the man to heel, but somehow, he still has friends that will toast his health. That Dr. Cleves for instance. Why are they friends?"

"Mingo, I believe you're mite biased against your father."

"I just know the man."

"That Dr. Cleves is a perplection," Daniel said as he slapped a mosquito biting his neck. "He may have saved our lives by stepping 'tween us and the sergeant's pistol. I'm thinkin' that took nerves that don't quite match up with the greenhorn hunter we know as Dr. Meriwether Cleves."

"He was sensitive to your description of the ambush, Daniel, and the news of Yadkin. I think it was an honest response. He became acquainted with us under difficult circumstances."

"Might be we should make a point of thankin' the good doctor," Daniel said. "I'm sure he'll be there for breakfast with the governor in the morning. Let's return to camp and get some shut-eye. I want to arrive bright and early in the morn. Wait--" Daniel grabbed Mingo's arm and gestured towards the palace door. "Isn't that Sergeant Quincy?"

The dedicated sergeant was hurrying along the bricked path leading from the front door to the gate. As Daniel and Mingo were standing in the shadows, away from the light cast by the oil lanterns that lined the path, Quincy did not see them.

"He has a letter in his hand," Mingo said.

"Shall we intercept the busy man and see if we might assist?"

Daniel stepped from the shadows just as the sergeant reached the point on the path directly adjacent. The aide was startled and dropped his letter.

The frontiersman swooped down and picked up the errant packet. "I'm sorry, Sergeant, I didn't mean to frighten you. You've dropped your dispatch."

"I say, give me that." The sergeant snatched at the letter but missed as Daniel lifted it into the light from the lantern over his shoulder.

"It's got some dirt on it." Daniel brushed at the cover as if to remove some debris. "Hope it's still readable." He handed it back to the agitated orderly.

Quincy hesitated. He looked at Daniel then Mingo. With a huff, he tramped off towards a mounted rider at the gate. After handing off the letter to the courier, he ordered the man to make haste per the governor's orders. The rider saluted and rode off at a gallop. The sergeant returned, trudging wearily back towards the palace, ignoring the tall men in the garden.

The frontier friends strolled out the gate and headed for their camp outside of town.

"Mingo, do you know of Cornstalk?"

"I know of him. He lives north of the Ohio."

"Really? What tribe?"

"Shawnee. Why would you ask such a question now?"

"That letter is an urgent dispatch to Cornstalk."

"The warriors on the trail," Mingo said with surprise.

"That's just what I'm thinkin', too. Why would the governor send an urgent dispatch to a Shawnee chief?"

"Because the governor is a lying murderer," Mingo said.

"Might be."

"Daniel, why do you refuse to see the obvious? We have simply given Dunsmore information that he did not have and now he is going to act on it and it most assuredly will not be to assist us. He is colluding with the Shawnee."

Daniel sighed. "I'm not ready to give up on Lord Dunsmore's sense of honor. He's a lot like his son in that regard."

The Cherokee rolled his eyes in disgust and strutted on ahead in silence.


	12. King and Pawn 5

**King and Pawn**

The next morning, Daniel and Mingo approached the Governor's Palace. They stopped at the iron entrance gate that was flanked by tall brick piers topped with snarling lions.

"Ready for another audience with the devil?" Mingo asked.

"I'd like for you to see your father alone. We need to make like bees to pollen. I'll work out the details. Just encourage Dunsmore to leave. I want him in a carriage headed for his huntin' lodge at dawn tomorrow."

"That is sudden indeed."

"We've no time to waste. I've got to get back to Yad and Boonesborough."

"Daniel, I'm surprised you trust _me _with my father."

"Of course, I trust you. You were just tuckered-out last night. You'll do fine, better than I could do. Besides, my presence may prevent you and he from talkin'"

Mingo chuckled.

The half-English Cherokee faced the building and considered it for a moment. The three-storey tall, five-bay wide, Georgian manor house was clad in brick and sat stately upon its raised cellar. A widow's walk and lanthorn topped its steep slated roof. It was regimented reticent classicism, true to the British taste for reserved monumentality, but entirely too small for his father's sense of self-worth. Lord Dunsmore would have thought he was moving into the caretaker's cottage.

Mingo approached the steps to the front doors. He looked back and found Daniel lingering at the gate watching him. The Cherokee gave him a sharp salute in the English fashion. The frontiersman smiled and returned the salute then strolled off to Major Halpen's quarters.

The hesitant visitor turned the brass knob on the oversized door designed to inspire awe in those who entered. He was surprised to find the paneled door swung open easily on its oiled hinges.

The interior was dark and cool. The light from the door fell across the wood floor and ran to the feet of a female servant who was busy dusting the furniture. The white beam ran up the wall she faced. Mingo could see the shadow of his turkey feathers on the wood paneling and so could she. She turned with a start, but then relaxed her perk features into a smile. The ruffled white cap upon her head could not contain the girl's honey-blonde locks.

"May I help ye?" She asked with a slightly Scottish accent.

"I thought only slaves were employed here."

The girl smoothed her apron. "I'm indentured. Two more years t' freedom. Though, I shall likely stay on with the good governor as he has been most kind to me, better than most."

Mingo thought it strange that there were no guards to throw him out. The girl's eyes were his father's. Where else had father planted his flag?

"Have ye come t' see the governor?" the girl asked.

"Yes. He is expecting me."

"Go on up then. He's in his office writing letters."

"Thank you. I have to admit I am a bit surprised at my reception."

"In what way, sir?"

"I am accustomed to being bodily thrown out by burly men."

The girl laughed brightly. "Why there was a whole group o' Indians here just the other day. 'Tis not uncommon t' see Indian royalty walking the streets o' Williamsburg. No one shall think anyting o' yeer presence."

"I am not exactly royalty. Where are all the servants and guards?"

"I dunno what you mean, sir. Do ye think there should be numerous guards or servants? Is there some danger? Only the governor lives here. He's no family here. If yeer referin' to those ragtag coffee-sodden louts on the green last night, the governor has no fear of them, sir. Why they should all be whipped soundly and put in the stocks if ye ask me."

"Hm. I did not mean to imply danger. I suppose I have delayed my meeting long enough. It has been most pleasant talking with you."

"Pray sir, may I ask, are ye the governor's son?"

Mingo turned his head to ponder the innocent looking girl whom he now thought gifted with prophecy.

"Yes. I am."

"Ye sound like ye were educated abroad. I've heard him talking about ye with his friends."

"Oh." Mingo wanted to ask 'what friends', but thought it too rude. "What is your name, dear?"

"Anna McClurry."

"My name is Mingo. Anna, you have brightened my day."

"I wish you good day, sir." The girl curtsied and followed him with her eyes as he passed into the stair hall.

Mingo loped up the stairs, taking two risers at a time. He knocked at the governor's office door.

"Come in," Dunsmore replied dryly.

The governor looked up as the Cherokee entered. He placed his quill pen in its holder and stood. "Mingo. Is Captain Boone with you?"

"No. He had to attend to some business." Mingo lingered at the door. The extravagant dark décor and the smell of stale tobacco repelled him.

The governor ambled around his desk to the middle of the room and gestured for his son to enter. "Please, come in, I promise I won't bite," he said with a wry smile. "It is good to see you again, son, though the circumstances are regrettable. I'm sure you are anxious about your friend that was shot."

Dunsmore's words were hollow to Mingo's ears. He stepped through the doorway and cautiously strode closer to his father until he could see the dilated pupils of the Scotsman's blue eyes. They were still a stranger's eyes though he searched for something else.

Mingo stepped around the governor to the red brocade-draped window behind the desk and whisked the drapes violently open. Pushing up the multi-pane window, he inhaled the fresh air to clear away the discomfort that the presence of his father always brought. "Why do you hide away in this dark cave?"

"It is not by choice. This is my garrison, my fortress. Would you like some refreshment?"

"No. That mob we saw outside last night--"

"It grieves me that you had to see that."

"They sounded threatening to me."

"I am a symbol of what they hate--an instrument of the British Empire, which they have decided no longer serves their purpose. It saddens me, Mingo. I thought I could make this Virginia my home, raise my family here. When I first arrived, the people were kind and welcoming. They adopted me as if I was native-born. They would have accepted you as well…as my son."

Dunsmore walked quietly to Mingo's side and gazed out the window.

"This place has a deceptive peace and beauty about it. Do you not agree?" the governor asked.

"Deceptive?"

"It lulls you into complacency. You quickly forget their colonial status, the immorality of slavery, when you are among these people, Negro and white alike. They have an uncommon sense of humor about life that buoys them through all trials and misfortunes. You can hear it now, listen."

Mingo could hear a conversation drifting up to them. There was a woman's quiet laugh. Words about the weather and someone's health. A light "Go well, be well" as the two women parted.

Dunsmore smiled and continued, "Their genteel voices mingle in the street, a pleasant warm breeze carries the melodious sounds to your ears and you think how could God be displeased with this?"

"So now you are telling me that you are taking up the cause of the abolitionist?"

The governor sighed. "What is a cause, Mingo? Is it not but the pontification of small powerless men? There is power here for the taking. It is standing now in the tobacco fields, in the street below."

Mingo followed his father's gaze to a group of black workers loading a large wagon with heavy burlap sacks of grain. They wore burlap on their backs. "The slaves?"

The governor turned a confident smile to his son.

"You were ashamed of me," Mingo said, "why should I believe that you have any concern for those displaced Africans down there?"

"You have misunderstood my intentions," Dunsmore said with a distant perturbed look.

Mingo laughed. "I'm sure you have planned some self-serving purpose with the slaves of Virginia, but you and I both know it is not because you are concerned for the immorality of slavery."

"I was referring to my intentions in regards to you." Dunsmore clasped his hands behind his back and sighed. "I only wanted you to be accepted in the world at large for a greater purpose. As a British citizen and my heir, I could have handed you the keys to this kingdom: the colony of Virginia and the Kentucky outparcel to do with as you pleased. A royal governorship. The means to impact, to influence, to lead."

"I have no desire to be the puppet of the Empire as you are. I see where it has brought you."

"The Cherokee are a fleeting mirage, Mingo. They are already ghosts. You are like the ship's captain that refuses to abandon ship, though there is a twelve-foot wide gash in its hull. He doesn't think of that moment of saving his life in order to sail another day on a bigger more powerful ship."

"No. I do not jump ships or change flags to save my own skin."

Dunsmore drew a deep breath and turned a frustrated tired face upon his son. "What about the rest of the Cherokee, Mingo? What exactly are you doing for them when you are piddling your days away in the woods? Please list your accomplishments on their behalf so that I might be better informed."

The native felt the familiar wasp sting of Dunsmore's words. He flushed with resentment, but was it his father's words that angered him or his own self-doubt? Gripping the windowsill, he pondered the distant wild woods beyond the well-kept fenced yards and gardens of the town--the woods once graced with the proud Powhatans who were now regulated to reservations and paying dependency money to the Crown. He recoiled in silence.

"I must apologize, Mingo. You did not come here to hear my bitter regrets or have them foisted upon you. It comes too easy upon an old warrior weary of the fight."

"What has happened that has you walled up in this building?" Mingo asked. "What have you done to these people to make them hate you?"

"You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Rabble fired upon the King's regulars at Lexington and Concord in Massachusetts. That sentiment has spread to this colony and this town. A blustering pettifogger turned rustic Cicero by the name of Patrick Henry is inflaming the gullible. He uttered some dribble about 'give me liberty or give me death' as if he is one of his slaves and not a freeborn English colonist. Tell me Mingo, is that hyperbole, irony or a straw man argument? The deluded stupidity of such careless drum-beating frustrates me to no end."

"And that was all it took for people to shout Death to the Empire, Death to Dunsmore?"

"I confiscated their gunpowder."

"Oh, of course, the gunpowder. Virginians value their guns above their wives. Then it is war?"

The governor didn't answer.

"How do you know Cornstalk?"

Dunsmore snapped his head to face Mingo. "Did you intercept that letter?"

"No."

The governor swallowed hard then nodded. "I negotiated peace with Cornstalk at Scioto after the Indian wars along the Clinch river. He was just here visiting with me the day before you arrived and is on his way home via Kentucky. I simply sent him a letter asking that he return with his warriors because I need his assistance."

"And he will do this just because you asked?"

"You haven't met Cornstalk have you?"

"No."

"He is a man of peace. An eloquent speaker that can move people's hearts. I have asked him to help you apprehend this Breeden. The chief is a good respected man among both Shawnee and white…like your Boone friend."

"Ah. I see. Just the sort of man to deceive. Are you threatening his family or village to gain his assistance?"

Dunsmore smirked and shook his head. The light streaming in the window highlighted the radiating lines at the edges of the Scotsman's bright clear eyes.

"He came to me looking for help," the governor said, "just like you are doing now. He knows of the poison Breeden is distilling in Kentucky."

"You told Daniel you knew nothing of Ahner Breeden," Mingo snarled.

"I'm a chess player." Dunsmore sighed. "It was a merely a waiting move to gain time. I am trapped in a king and pawn endgame with no resources to bring to bear on real or imaginary foes."

"You have to leave Williamsburg tomorrow morning."

"Pardon?"

"Daniel and I are going to help you escape to safety."

"And why, pray tell, would the two of you do that?"

"I have not quite determined that myself."

"Is this Boone's plan?"

"Yes."

"If I leave, Cornstalk will not befriend you without my introduction. I have arranged for him to meet me at my hunting lodge rather than in town."

The appearance of Daniel, striding hurriedly across the green towards a large house, distracted Mingo. The tall buckskin clad frontiersman stood out among the wool-clad townsmen going about their business on the street.

Was it distrust that kept Daniel from sharing his plan with his Cherokee brother? Did Daniel Boone now think him a Loyalist? Why not? Most Cherokee were loyal to the British crown when it was convenient to be so. Mingo felt as if a vice was squeezing the air out of his lungs. There was no escaping this growing conflict--no neutral ground--it seeped into every crack infecting all in its path with the malady of suspicion. He wanted to flee his father's presence, but he inhaled deeply and willed his feet to stay. "Then you do fear the mob?"

"They would prefer the King's head, but mine will do in its absence. These revolutionaries seem to want war, Mingo. God knows how it will end or how far it will reach."

"I knew the colonists were seeking representation in Parliament," Mingo said as he chanced a glance at his father, "and were unhappy with the King's taxes. Why can't the King just give them what they want and avoid war?"

Dunsmore narrowed his eyes at Mingo, but did not answer. The Cherokee was glad his father remained silent. He felt like the village idiot voicing such an uninformed view. His head began to throb.

"Will you be ready to leave tomorrow morning?" Mingo asked.

"I will consider it. When I leave, there will be no British presence in the colony. I am giving her up to an ill-managed rabble that will not be able to maintain simple law and order on the streets of this town. It is a difficult decision. Both friend and foe lay claim upon me."

"I shall let Daniel know." Mingo strode quickly to the door and swung it open. "I leave you for now."

* * *

Mingo hurried out of the building into the brilliant noon sunlight. He took a deep breath and felt his heart slow, his nerves calm. As he walked through the gates, the cold remains of the protest the evening before still sat on the palace green, black and menacing. Why didn't the soldiers clear that away last night?

A crowd of young men and boys was forming just outside the gates. The guards were threatening them with bayonets and yelling for them to disperse.

An older man among the boys shouted, "Hey, Injun, we'll pay you for Dunsmore's scalp!"

Mingo ignored the taunt. He followed in the direction he had last seen Daniel.

The men on the green in tricorn hats, britches, stockings & buckled shoes ignored the buckskin clad Cherokee as he passed. After crossing the dusty road he walked along the brick paved sidewalk. A petite lady approached--her petticoats rustling in the breeze--the ribbon about her white bonnet fluttering. She gazed into his eyes as she passed and offered him a kind soft smile. He returned the smile, awkwardly. Would she smile if she knew he was the son of Lord Dunsmore?

Mingo heard a tapping on glass and looked up to see Daniel at the window of a painted clapboard clad building. There was a sign over the door identifying the establishment as the office of Meriwether Cleves, Doctor of Medicine. The native strode to the door and entered into a faux-marble painted entry foyer.

"Come in, come in, my dear friend, Mingo," Dr. Cleves exuberantly called from the adjacent room. "So you have been to see your father this morning? I hope you found him in a pleasant mood."

"Yes, I have seen him. As to his mood--imperial pomposity with a touch of melancholy."

Mingo walked into the room and found himself surrounded with books from floor to ceiling. He breathed in the smell of fine oiled wood and leather. Seeing Cleves in this room, his hair white with age, his gray eyes twinkling with anticipation, challenged Mingo's opinion of the man he had previously thought an ignorant greenhorn in the Kentucky wilderness.

"Are you impressed with my collection?" Cleves inquired. "I would love to know what you think of it."

The Oxford educated Indian stepped to a shelf of books and ran his hand over the cool leather of a red volume. It was the writings of Samuel Boswell. There was a volume of Bacon. He skipped over to find all the books alphabetized by the author's name. He soon found Shakespeare, the complete works, and smiled. "It is beautiful, Doctor. You must spend many a pleasant hour in this room."

"Indeed." The doctor gestured to two large chairs. Books were stacked on one of the chairs and the small round table between the chairs and on the carpeted floor by the chairs. On a side table sat a carved ivory set of chessmen frozen in an unfinished game.

"Is Dunsmore willin' to go along with my plan?" Daniel asked.

The Cherokee turned quickly, momentarily confused by the question. "He said he would consider it."

Daniel was attentively considering the color illustrations in a copy of Gulliver's Travels--his favorite book.

"Splendid," Dr. Cleves said.

Mingo was alarmed that Daniel had shared his plan with the doctor. He glanced intently at his friend and caught his eye.

"It's all right, Mingo. Dr. Cleves is a friend. I needed his help." The frontiersman tapped his finger on a page of the book and shook his head. "You know I didn't picture Gulliver just like this." Daniel lifted his eyes and focused intently on Mingo. "_This_ is an imposter." He slammed the book closed and returned it to its place next to Shakespeare as if dismissing it for the picture's fallacy.

"Now with that settled," the doctor said clapping his hands together, "I will treat the two of you to dinner at the King George Tavern. They are serving a delectable ocean perch with a Hollandaise sauce, which is well worth the walk, though it will take us from this quiet green to the throng on Gloucester."

"Sounds tasty Doctor," Daniel said, "you lead the way."

Their walk led them south the full length of the park-like palace green then east along Gloucester. The city bustled with activity, as it was market day. Wagons lined the road. Shopkeepers, artisans, and country farmers went about their business on the street and paid little heed to the passing odd trio of the wealthy Dr. Cleves, a buckskin clad frontiersman and a Cherokee.

Mingo had lost his headache and began to relax by the time he finished the two-course meal. He paid little mind to the conversation until Dr. Cleves asked Daniel his views of the current conflict between the colonies and the King. Daniel was evasive in his answers. The native was sure his white friend was squarely on the side of the colonies and desired separation from England. Neither Dr. Cleves, nor Daniel, seemed terribly concerned about what Mingo thought of it. He was glad of that because he could not have voiced an opinion. The colonists' grievances with the British were not his grievances, though he had plenty of his own.

Dr. Cleves put the bill on his tab and excused himself as he had a patient to see. Daniel and Mingo remained for another round of ale.

"Why did you not tell Dr. Cleves your true feelings regarding the current conflict with the British?" Mingo asked.

"It isn't somethin' he needs to know 'bout me." Daniel smiled. His green eyes, the color of Kentucky tall grass, lingered on Mingo, studying his features.

"What is it?" Mingo asked, uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

"How was your father?"

"Depressed. Prone to reminiscing about what I could have been. He gave me the impression that disaster will befall this town whether he stays or leaves. I think he values himself too highly. Are you going to share your plan with me or not?"

Daniel glanced casually about the tavern. There were merchants and professionals having their midday meal with little discussion between them. He bent his head toward Mingo and whispered, "The governor and I will leave by carriage just before dawn. You'll be provided with a horse. We'll go to the governor's huntin' lodge, then on to a ship anchored in the York River. Simple."

Mingo eyed his friend suspiciously.

"What?" Daniel asked.

"Why the rush to get him out of town?"

"Come on let's go for a walk so we can talk freely."

* * *

The men walked out and crossed the road taking the least populated route down Gloucester towards the college of William and Mary.

"Mingo, I fear there's a plot against your father. It may come in the form of a rabble mob, a bucket of tar and a bag of goose feathers."

"I would have thought that you would consider him an enemy. Why do you want to help him? He has an army to do that."

"I doubt his army will protect him."

"You mean King George wants him dead, too?"

Daniel chuckled. "Maybe not quite that high up the totem pole."

"Wouldn't helping him be considered treason to the colonial powers as well as the common man on the street here?"

"How perceptive of you, Mingo. Perhaps, but I could never stand by and allow any man to be tarred if I thought I could prevent it. There's just somethin' about a lone fellow facin' a mob of angry folk that grates on my sensibilities of fair play. Have you ever witnessed a tar and featherin' or a rail-ride out of town?"

"Of course not, but I imagine it cannot possibly be worse than a Cherokee roasting."

Daniel grinned. "You have a point there. The victim is stripped and covered with hot tar. The tar burns the skin when applied, the skin comes off with the tar after it has cooled. If the victim survives, they live in agony for weeks and are scarred for life."

"There are people here who want to do that to my father?"

"Yep, or worse. The disgruntled taxpayers named that building 'the palace' long ago because they were offended by it. It could easily become the governor's coffin by trappin' him inside and settin' it a-blaze. The wide-open doors last night makes me suspect his own guard."

Mingo breathed uneasy at what Daniel was describing, but it wasn't his father that concerned him. "There are servants in that building. I spoke to one this morning. She knows none of this." Mingo stopped and threw his head back. He stared at the bright azure sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. "He will let the innocents die as if they were mere furniture."

Two well-dressed silver-haired men exited a tavern and turned towards Daniel and Mingo. Both had canes, which they used to take a step or two then brandish in the air as rhetorical weapons to punctuate some heated point of contention.

"My God, Henry, do you not understand the purport of the King's declaration?"

"Samuel, why must we jump every time the King utters a word? If he said the smell of privies was offensive to his royal nose, we would scurry to tear our little 'necessities' down. He is like a spoilt child. Better to ignore him and go about our business."

"Henry, he declared the American colonies are in rebellion. His next declaration could bring war to our very doors. Faith man, he has only to stir up those Indian allies of his and not a man, woman or child in Virginia would escape their fiery vengeance. Why, think of it--the slaves! I've heard gossip about town that he plans to free them with one of his pernicious proclamations."

Daniel grabbed Mingo's shoulder and pulled him off the walk with him. The men passed continuing their debate never looking up to see the wilderness hunter and the Indian.

After the townsmen were out of hearing range, Daniel said, "The governor is bein' squeezed by colonists who want to throw the British out with their bathwater, and Loyalists who are scared of what's goin' to happen if he leaves."

"The Loyalists, like Cleves, must be what's keeping him here." Mingo said.

A stout leather-aproned shopkeeper with broom in hand was ripping papers affixed to the front of his dry goods store. He swung around and glared with dark eyes at Daniel and Mingo. The brawny man raised his broom high over his head and lumbered with a swaying gait across the road directly towards them. "You there, you vile sons of treasonous vipers. I'll not tolerate this vandalism of my property do you hear? I am a loyal subject of the Crown. I shall bring the King's soldiers to bear upon your sorry hides."

Daniel glanced at his companion. "Run for your life!"

He and Mingo sprinted off. Looking back, they saw several giggling dirty boys running out from behind a stack of barrels. They were the man's target. The boys ran off singing "Tory, Tory, a pox upon ye posteriori."

Daniel and Mingo stopped and watched the humorous spectacle along with everyone else on the street, until a barrel-rolling servant called, "I say my good fellows, have a care." The tall duo jumped aside to avoid being upended by a wayward barrel.

"Cleves has been acting the part of a Tory," Daniel said. "I can't explain why, but I believe the good doctor is actually of the Whig persuasion." The frontiersman turned a grave face to his friend and stepped away to continue his walk.

"What?" Mingo had to leap three steps to catch up with his long-legged friend.

The two men were approaching a milliners shop. At the twinkle of a small bell, two hat-clad young ladies issued from the door. They tripped down the wood steps to the walk then halted before Daniel and Mingo bringing them to a stop. For a moment, the girls' pink faces seemed about to explode into screams, but then one of them smiled with a sparkle in her blue eyes. "Good day to you gents." She curtsied and the other girl followed suit.

"Good day to you ladies," Daniel said, "I was wonderin', do they have ribbon in there? My daughter loves the bright satin ones."

"Oh yes sir," the bold girl said, "you will find many pretty ribbons as well as fine lace. Your daughter is very lucky indeed. Goodwife Jonson shall be agreeable for your custom if you tell her Annabelle sent you."

The frontiersman smiled, doffed his coonskin cap and bowed to the girls. They giggled as they hurried down the walk in front of the men, chancing glances behind them and giggling some more.

Daniel gripped Mingo by the arm and followed the girls towards the market square and commons.

"But Daniel," Mingo continued in a lower voice, "you have trusted Cleves with your plan for saving the governor."

"I have to trust someone to befriend him. Cleves is the only one I've got. He told me the party last night was for all the loyalists in town. They were showin' solidarity with the governor to persuade him to stay and fortify the town. The loyalists and the partisans don't trust each other. It's a dangerous game of see-saw."

"If Cleves is in opposition to my father, though, could he not be the very one that is arranging his demise?"

The calls of the hawkers offering goods at the market grew louder as they approached the market square. There was a crowd of apron-wearing domestics making purchases. The cackle of chickens and honks of geese punctuated the voices busy at barter. Cows lowed as they grazed on the town commons. The scent of rotten fruit mingled with that of manure in the air.

"I believe Cleves cares about John Murray, the man," Daniel said stridently over the noisy milieu about them. "Even if he doesn't agree with his politics. It's only a hunch though, but for the moment, your father's life depends on that one friend being true. Mingo, a man may be scoundrel or saint and wear the coat of a Tory or a Whig.

"Or be a Whig and wear the coat of Tory. It is all very confusing to this Cherokee, my friend. Tell me, Daniel," the native yelled, "how does a man think at all in this chicken coup of a town?"

Daniel laughed. "Makes ya miss home don't it?"

As they left the market square, they came upon a print shop and a boy about the size of Daniel's son, Israel, sitting on the stoop with an armload of papers. His face smudged with ink. "Will you buy?"

Daniel smiled at the pint-size hawker. "I'm sorry youngin', but I'm a mite short on pence today. May I beg the headline?"

The boy held the top paper up. "Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death!" blazed across the page.

Daniel patted the boy on his disheveled blond head. "Do you know what it says?"

"Nay. I cannot read, but I know what it means." As blistering as any revolutionary, the youth trumpeted, "We're to kick those haughty British overseers back to England with their tea and their teapots."

The men smiled at each other and walked on in silence for a moment.

"What about you, Mingo?"

"What? I have no opinion where this conflict is concerned."

"I mean in regards to your father."

"Oh. He has brought this upon himself, Daniel. I do not feel the need to come to his rescue. Neither do I want you risking your life and reputation on him."

"Even to save him from bodily harm?"

"Natives believe that torture and a slow death honors their enemy. It is your people that believe it a disgrace."

Daniel stopped in mid-stride and grabbed Mingo's buckskin vest jerking him to a stop. Furrowing his brow, the frontiersman stared intently at the Cherokee. "Now that's just plumb confusin'. This is your blood father we are talkin' about. Do you wish him a slow tortured death in order to honor him?"

Mingo smiled at Daniel's earnest confusion. "I did not consider my father my enemy, until he threatened you and me with extinction if we did not buckle to his will regarding Kentucky. I never dreamed that he would reappear like a Roman Caesar to violently rip the land and my life from me."

"The man is a mite insensitive."

"My mother loved him. If she saw something in him…Oh, Daniel, I am confused myself. For the sake of my mother's memory, I do not wish him harmed. I can understand, though, why the powerless people that he has treaded upon seek to inflict real physical pain upon him."

The clang of a blacksmith's anvil startled the men. It continued a rhythmic beat that told them they were standing near a foundry.

They walked on.

"You can sit this out," Daniel said, as they passed the last house facing the street. Its fenced orderly garden was a reminder to Mingo of what civilization meant to the English colonist.

The college building loomed before them. Boys in black robes were running out into the formal garden at the front of the building. They laughed and chased each other about the flowering topiary.

One of the scholars pointed at Mingo and Daniel, "Hey look," he called to his friends, "a frontiersman and an Indian." The other boys stopped and struck up a jabber like blue jays, "Look at those Pennsylvania rifles they carry--Wish I had one like that--They sure look tough--Wish I could dress like that every day--Look at that whip that Indian has--Whoa."

The youth stood with mouths agape staring for a moment in devoted awe then they bounded off towards another group of students with a game underway.

"Did you hear me, Mingo?"

Mingo's thoughts had drifted off. "I am sorry, Daniel. What did you say?"

"I said you can sit this out. I'm mighty thankful for your presence and support, but--"

"Breeden must be stopped, Daniel. That is why I am here. If saving my father tomorrow will put us closer to that end then I am with you."

"Good enough," Daniel said with a nod. "I've booked us a room at the inn on the green with a window overlookin' the palace. We'll take turns keepin' watch tonight--for the sake of the servants."

"Why can we not just escort him straight to the ship at the river?" Mingo asked.

"Halpen said the governor wants to go to his huntin' lodge first to retrieve somethin' that's important."

Mingo chuckled. "Gold, perhaps?"

"Perhaps. It's on the way to the river."

"Isn't the hunting lodge just a potential trap?" Mingo asked.

"Yep."

Mingo stared at his friend. "But, Daniel?" he growled.

The frontiersman merely offered a crooked smile, then turned and strode off back along the street at a fast pace. He yelled over his shoulder, "Got to buy some ribbons for 'Mima 'fore that shop closes."

Mingo sighed in exasperation. He loped to catch up. "But, Daniel?" he yelled over the noise of a carriage rumbling by on the dusty street. The frustrated Cherokee gave up. He stopped and put his hands on his slim hips.

"Will you buy?"

Mingo sighed and pulled some copper pence from his bandolier. He flipped them to the paper-pushing boy who gave him a paper.


	13. King and Pawn 6

**King and Pawn**

Before dawn, as the town yet slumbered, a carriage drawn by four horses sat at the front of the Governor's Palace. Mounted marines waited fore and aft of the carriage as a servant carefully finished painting the royal coat of arms on the vehicle's black doors in the dim lantern light.

Mingo sat on a horse in the rear pondering the ironic fate that had him 'protecting' his father from a mob. He watched Lord Dunsmore and Daniel pass through the gate and climb into the carriage. Major Halpen with a flick of a raised hand led the company towards the rising sun.

It was a bewitchingly calm day. As the sun rose, they met riders and wagons headed for town. Each person they met pulled to the side to allow the royal procession to pass. They doffed their hats and smiled to the carriage occupants. Many spoke—"Good morning to you, governor," and other frivolous polite greetings. With each greeting, the governor's arm and ring-adorned hand would appear waving in reply to his devoted subjects.

Mingo found himself bored and pondering what a Virginian might consider a 'gentlemen's war.' _What do they do? Doff their hats and bow, say pardon me, and then shoot each other? No of course not, they doff their hats and bow, say good day, be well, pardon me, then their slaves shoot each other._ The native berated himself for his cynicism.

After an hour's ride, Halpen led them off the main road onto a smaller lane that wound through trees and growth that were laced with small waterways. The smell of salted fishy air and the presence of pelicans sitting on the remains of decayed wood indicated they were near the ocean. Mingo could just glimpse a brick building ahead through the trees. An incongruously named hunting lodge. He had expected something more like his own.

A flock of large bright-plumed birds took flight with a roar, winging above the wetlands and soaring over the heads of the riders and carriage. The sight astounded the Cherokee. The birds created a momentary breeze in the hot clammy air. He could have reached up and scratched the belly of one of those wild free creatures. Almost laughing aloud, he thought that alone was worth the trip until a shout broke the tranquil silence and Mingo's careless reverie.

The trees came alive as men jumped from behind the great trunks and leapt from the leaves. They kept coming as if the surrounding green waterways had bubbled them up from their dark depths. Townsmen, shopkeepers, innkeepers, farmers, blacksmiths with their leather aprons still wrapped about their muscular frames marched forth. Even buckskinned trappers and hunters appeared with long knifes and tomahawks gripped in their hands. The crowd grew to over a hundred heated dogged faces; fisted hands brandished common tools, banged metal pots; voices thundered derisive catcalls. Death to Dunsmore, Death to the Tyrant sounded the drumbeat by which this commoner army marched.

It was an ambush by men with no firearms… or no gunpowder. Mingo brought his rifle up and aimed at a man's hand on the carriage door, but his shot went high as he was yanked from his horse and disarmed. The mounted guard was overcome by sheer force of angry will. Scattered musket shots resounded, but they missed their marks.

Mingo was held firmly by two large men. He watched helplessly as the carriage door was flung open and the governor was yanked out as if he were a mere sack of meal. By the rocking of the carriage, Mingo knew they were beating the other occupant unconscious—Daniel. There were five men handling the governor, dragging him to a clearing at the side of the road where a steaming tar bucket awaited by a tree. Mingo's heart pounded in his chest as he realized what he was about to witness.

His anxiety for his estranged father astonished him. His childhood passed through his mind and every word, embrace and gift of that young British officer that called his mother 'his love' came back in a flood, but it was the image of his parents embracing and laughing that lingered. One of the men holding him chuckled. "Why is this bothering you so much, Cherokee? Are you acquainted with that Mephistopheles?"

Mingo's panting chest had already told his captors more than he wished them to know.

The men were laughing and joking among themselves as if it were merely a game. They began stripping the governor of his clothes and throwing them to waiting hands as souvenirs. Mingo tried to wrench free of his captors but they held him tight. "NO!" he heard himself yell. "He was only following orders. Enough. Let him go!"

A surly voice at his ear growled, "If you wanted to save the tyrant from this, you should have scalped him when you had the chance. Shall we cover your sensitive ears, so you can't hear his screams when the hot tar is poured over his skin or the hot tea down his throat? Odd's life. One would think you were his son."

A well-dressed man in black boots and a scabbard dangling at his side stood apart watching and smiling contemptuously like a wolf salivating at the side of a dying buffalo. Mingo cringed. He knew the dark apparition as Ahner Breeden. Major Halpen was still on his horse looking on with disinterested composure, though the ruffians held his soldiers captive.

Large hands threw the governor against the tree and pinned him there. His white wig was yanked from his head and tossed to waiting outstretched hands.

Dead silence followed. The chatter of birds and insects was heard again.

"Howdy boys! It's been fun, but how 'bout lettin' me go now?"

Mingo stretched to see over the mob's head. There was Daniel's auburn hair, and his wide grin from ear to ear. The native gasped when he realized that his friend, his brother, was the helpless victim at the tree, not his father.

Someone remembered the other carriage occupant and pulled him out. It was Sergeant Quincy dressed in Daniel's buckskins.

Breeden marched to the tree and put his face within inches of Daniel's.

"What trick is this, Boone? I thought you had an injured friend to nurse."

"You tell me, Breeden. How is it you knew to be here at this moment? You have friends in high places?" Daniel glanced towards Halpen and smiled.

Halpen's eyes roamed about seeking a way of escape.

"Sergeant Quincy," Daniel shouted, "Major Halpen appears to be thinkin' about leavin' the party. I think you should change his mind."

Quincy jumped up rubbing his wounded head. He raced to the horse, and with brawny display, pulled the Major to the ground and sat on him. "I have him Captain Boone. He shan't get away."

"Thank you, Sergeant."

"Unhand me!" the fallen officer yelled. "This is insubordination."

Daniel laughed and yelled, "As one fish said to the other in the frying pan."

Some of the soldiers wrestled with their captors when they saw their commanding officer manhandled.

"Sergeant," Daniel yelled, "order your guard to stand down. There'll be no bloodshed today."

The sergeant gave the necessary order.

Breeden tossed back his dark mane and laughed. "I always figured you for a Loyalist, Boone." The leather-skinned renegade leapt upon a fallen tree trunk like a panther. Pacing back and forth along the log, he addressed the mob with flashing blue eyes. "Look here all of you gallant freeborn Virginians. The infamous Daniel Boone has helped that lying butcher Dunsmore to escape. Daniel Boone is a Loyalist and a traitor to the people! Shame to let a bucket of tar go to waste. Who will be so bold and step forward to teach traitors a lesson today? Shall we tar and feather Boone and march him down Gloucester Street?"

The mob cheered Breeden.

Mingo reeled in emotional anguish. He yelled angrily in frustration, "Daniel, why?"

The frontiersman turned towards his friend's deep voice. Daniel's eyebrows raised, a slow crooked grin stretched across his face. "Now hold on there, boys. You know me better than that. I fought beside many of you at Clinch River did I not?"

"You sure did Captain Boone," a man yelled. "I was there with you."

"So was I," another yelled.

"Well there was another man that stood tall with us at Clinch River. That was Carolina E. Yadkin. How many of you know him?"

Several affirmations arose from the crowd. "There ain't no better trail blazer and Indian fighter then Yadkin!" someone yelled.

"I come here to tell you that I witnessed this man Ahner Breeden shoot Yadkin in the back when he was only tryin' to save two of his dead friends from being scalped by Shawnee."

A buzz arose from the crowd as they shared their thoughts with each other.

A bearded man raised his gravelly voice to tell the crowd of some encounter with Daniel in some unnamed stretch of wilderness. All Mingo could make out is that it involved killing multiple 'b'ars' single handed. "That there is that same man," the storyteller exclaimed. "That is _the_ Daniel Boone."

"He raves," Breeden roared. "Dunsmore stole your powder, he stole your money, he stole the food right out of your children's mouths. Why he'd steal your wives and mothers if he had the desire." The burly orator stood silent for a moment letting his words sink in. The mob murmured to each other, fidgeting, undecided.

"Aye," Breeden continued, "we _all_ fought, and some of our friends died at Clinch River, but it was Dunsmore that incited the Cherokee to attack. It was Dunsmore that incited the Shawnee at Pleasant Hill. Dunsmore is the reason Daniel Boone's oldest boy James and my boy Tom died at the hands of savages at Cumberland Trace. Boone was his trail guide! He is helping Dunsmore gain the Kentucky and Ohio wilderness for the British and their Indian allies."

The crowd quieted.

Breeden laughed. "Why the Shawnee savage Blackfish calls Daniel Boone his adopted son. He's a traitor to you fine hardworking Virginians! He's a traitor to the memory of his own son."

Breeden's words silenced the crowd. Some of the mob began to chant slowly, "Traitor. Traitor."

"Boone is not lying," Mingo yelled. His deep tone rose in the warm breathless air like a lone trumpet. The chanting stopped and all eyes turned to the Cherokee with the English voice. "I witnessed the same. Breeden attacked us with a band of Shawnee at the Cumberland pass and stole hard-earned gold that we were escorting to the Boonesborough settlement in Kentucky. He shot Yadkin in the back. Daniel Boone kept Kentucky from Dunsmore's greedy deceptive land title fraud. It is Breeden that is allied with the Shawnee, not Boone. I witnessed it all. And there are others who can stand as witnesses as well."

The men holding Mingo released him and stood aside to marvel at the native man who would speak for Daniel Boone.

Breeden took the opportunity to pull a pistol from his vest and aimed it at Boone. Mingo shouted, "Don't let him shoot Daniel!"

Someone hit Breeden's outstretched arm, the gun went off with a flash, sending its ball harmlessly into a nearby swamp. The renegade dashed back along the road from which the carriage had come. Mingo lunged after him.

"Wait, Mingo!" Daniel yelled. "I need your help here."

The Cherokee stopped and slowly turned back to Daniel puzzled at his friend's intentions.

A tall townsman hollered, "Boone, we still have the issue of Dunsmore taking our gunpowder then taxing us by proclamation. Why are you helping him?"

"Listen to me. I can help you get your money back if you just let me go."

Some men laughed. "Just let you go? We'd be wanting brains to do that. We'll keep you for ransom."

"Ain't anyone that would pay a ransom for my poor hide. You let the soldiers take Major Halpen back to town," Daniel said. "He's the one that cheated you out o' your money--not the governor. Let my friend and me have a couple of those horses and we'll find your money that Breeden has hidden and return it to you. Is there a judge you trust in town to distribute the money?"

"Old Judge Collings. Dunsmore stripped him of his position. He may be found at Raleigh's Tavern every afternoon holding court."

Hardy laughter arose from the crowd.

Daniel's presence and words had a powerful pacifying effect upon the massed humanity. The men became a joking laughing gathering of friends that could no more turn back to violence that day than dogs romping on full bellies. That came easily to the big hunter with the goofy grin on his comely face. Mingo was livid with him. He stood with his hands on his hips, waiting.

"All right," Daniel said. "Give me a chance. That's all I'm askin'. I'll prove to you I'm no traitor to the people."

"Fine, but you can't buy Dunsmore's neck, Boone!"

Daniel was released. Mingo trudged up to him and inspected the undressed frontiersman. All he had on were buckled shoes, stockings, Dunsmore's pants and suspenders and his own ripped pink undershirt. "I simply cannot fathom what went through your mind, Daniel, to try such a foolish act as this," the Cherokee spat angrily. "Yadkin could not have come up with a more jingle-brained plan."

The frontiersman's crooked grin disappeared. He glanced down at himself. "Hm. You might have a point there. I'll just get my bonnet from the sergeant and we'll be on our way. We've got to beat Breeden to that money."

* * *

The Kentucky duo on a mission rode at a hard gallop back to town.

Daniel reined his horse to a jarring stop at a quaint gray house with a red door. It had a white picket fence surrounding profuse red rose bushes. After he jumped from the animal and leapt over the fence, he yelled, "Mingo there's no time to explain. Get to the back garden and be on the look out for Breeden."

The anxious frontiersman grabbed the brass lion head knocker and banged it. A servant answered. His eyes widened at the disheveled man before him. He tried to slam the door shut, but Daniel prevented him from doing so with his stiffened arm. "Don't be afraid. Your mistress knows me. I mean her no harm."

"Is that wretched son of hers with you?" the manservant growled low.

"No. I'm a friend of Mrs. Breeden and her late husband. My name is Daniel Boone--"

"Daniel?" a strong feminine voice called from the parlor door. "Is that really you?"

"Yes, Mama Breeden. Listen, I want you to stay here with your servant until I return. I'm goin' to visit your back garden for a moment. I promise I'll return later this evenin' for a long visit-- just you and me."

"Does this have anything to do with Ahner?" she asked in the hollow of the small hands that covered her pale face. Ahner's eyes peered at the frontiersman from over her elegant fingertips.

"Mama, don't worry. Just stay right here with this good man." Daniel stared at the servant and tried to get across with his expression that the woman needed to be protected. The frightened servant swallowed hard but nodded as if he understood.

Daniel bolted through the house, out the back door and past the detached brick kitchen. He surveyed the garden. It was well manicured, brimming with flowerbeds and flowering azaleas. There were a couple of outbuildings and a brick wall surrounding it all. Mingo stood awaiting his command.

"Do we need spades, or are we to dig this garden up like two gophers?" Mingo asked.

"Nope. We're goin' to clean out the privy." Daniel pointed to a small square brick building at the back corner of the garden.

The hunter loped towards it and the Cherokee followed reluctantly.

Daniel seemed to know what he was doing. He leapt to the back of the structure and opened a wide metal grate at the bottom of the wall. The stench of human waste was overwhelming.

"Come on Mingo, ain't you ever cleaned out a latrine before?"

"Frankly, no."

Daniel tossed his coonskin cap aside. He sat back on his heels and looked skeptically at his friend for a moment then said, "You stand back. I'm going in." The long frontiersman took a deep breath, ducked under the opening and dove inside. Only his stocking covered calves and buckled shoes remained visible.

The Cherokee warrior stood appalled.

Daniel wiggled around in the muck for a bit then he yelled, "I've got it, pull me out."

Mingo reached down, grabbed Daniel's ankles and gave a hard tug. He found it a hard way to move six foot five inches of brawny frontiersman. The slim Indian struggled until he fell on the ground.

Daniel popped his head out of the smelly hole, rose to his knees then pulled a cloth covered square bulk out after him. He quickly ripped off the covering of oilcloth to reveal a strongbox with a padlock. "Shoot the lock off."

The smelly frontiersman stood, moved back and watched intently as Mingo aimed his rifle at the padlock and fired. The lid popped open revealing glittering new gold coins.

"How did you know?" Mingo asked amazed at the scene before him.

Daniel grinned and scratched his head. "When we were boys, Ahner used to stash his home-brewed whiskey this way to keep his mother from knowin' about it. She'd a poured it out on the ground if she ever found it. If he had a stash o' gold he needed to retrieve in a hurry this is exactly where he'd put it."

"That means Breeden is probably headed here."

"Yep. Load your rifle. Breeden's alone now, but he's still a clever dangerous man. The sergeant should show up soon with a couple of men to guard the house and the mother."

"How did you know to trust Quincy and not Halpen?"

"Another hunch. Quincy just seemed dedicated to your father."

Mingo shook his head and laughed.

The red-coated sergeant swaggered through the garden gate. "Captain Boone, I am here as promised with two trustworthy men."

"Thank you, Sergeant. Best keep your distance, I stink like a polecat. Did you happen to bring my clothes?"

Quincy grinned and held out a bundle to the frontiersman.

After Daniel cleaned up at the pump in the yard and dressed in his buckskins, Sergeant Quincy handed him a list of the townspeople that had paid the special tax collected by Halpen.

* * *

Daniel and Mingo took the gold with the list to Raleigh's Tavern where the judge sat waiting.

On their way back to the palace, Daniel stopped at Dr. Cleves.

"Why are we stopping here?" Mingo asked.

"To retrieve your father. He's having tea with Dr. Cleves in his back parlor."

Mingo grinned. "Daniel, why could you not tell me your true plans? Do you suspect _me_ of being a double agent?"

"Nope. I just knew you'd never let me do it."

"Indeed. That is correct. I would not have."

"We still need to get your father to safety, Mingo. All I've done is call off the dogs for a short spell, but they're goin' to get drunk on that money and return to their games tomorrow night."

Mingo furrowed his smooth brow. "We do not have the money Breeden stole from us. He is going to see the soldiers at his mother's house. Daniel, it is my opinion that we should be trailing him."

The frontiersman sighed. "I reckon that money's gone for good anyhow, but…" Daniel glanced past Mingo. "Don't look now but there's a bunch o' Shawnee comin' up the green."

The Cherokee jumped around and planted his feet with his rifle ready. Daniel gripped Mingo's shoulder and laughed. Shawnee were approaching, but in the middle of their group walked Ahner Breeden with his hands tied behind his back.

"Cornstalk," Mingo said remembering his father's words.

"I suspect your father arranged that," Daniel said. "That's the same chief we saw on the way here. Perhaps he wanted Breeden as much as we did. Let's get the governor home so he can greet his guests."

"Captain Boone," Dunsmore said close behind the men startling them both, "you are correct in your assumptions regarding Cornstalk. He was hunting Breeden, too. I would be happy if you two would accompany me to my residence that I might introduce you to my guests."

Daniel glanced towards the palace. "Governor, there's a crowd of unfriendlies gatherin' at your door. Are you sure?"

Dunsmore stood erect as if called to attention by King George himself. "I must Captain Boone. I am still the royal governor and those are still citizens of Great Britain."

With Daniel on one side and his son on the other, the governor crossed the green towards the palace. His tall guards held their rifles cradled in their arms on the alert for trouble, but kept themselves coolly disinterested.

When the young loiters climbing over the wall and swinging on the gate saw them approaching, someone yelled, "Hey, there's Daniel Boone. He found our money." The crowd cheered.

"What will ye do with the governor, Daniel?" a swarthy broad shouldered lad yelled.

"Why, have a spot of tea with him if he's a mind," Daniel yelled back with his best English accent.

The boys laughed and cheered the tall frontiersman and opened the gates for the men to pass through.

The governor turned about when they reached the open doors of the residence. The Shawnee had followed through the palace gates, scattering the young bullies. Dunsmore called to them, "Cornstalk, welcome. I believe your prisoner would be best placed at the public gaol. Sergeant Quincy!"

The harried sergeant appeared from a side building, saluting his governor. "Right here, sir."

"Please take the prisoner to the gaol and keep a tight watch on him. Cornstalk's warriors will assist you."

Breeden raised his head to glare at the three men standing at the door of the palace. He opened his mouth to speak, but the warriors jerked him away as they turned to follow the sergeant.

"Governor," Daniel said, "May I ask your leave, sir."

"Do you not want to meet Cornstalk, Captain Boone? I assure you he is good company."

"I'd love to meet the man, but I must postpone that meetin'. I promised a certain lady that I would return to visit with her this evenin'."

"Does Rebecca know this woman, Daniel?" Mingo asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, she does." Daniel laughed and pushed back his coonskin cap. "She'd be sore with me if I didn't keep my promise."

"Very well, Captain. I would like my son to meet Cornstalk. Will you accept the invitation, Mingo?"

Mingo looked to his friend who smiled and nodded.

"Yes, I'll stay." The Cherokee felt trapped and uneasy.

Daniel stepped from the door but looked back. "Governor, we still have a date with a ship on the York river. You haven't forgotten?"

"No. I have not forgotten. I will be ready to depart at the appointed hour."

The frontiersman tipped his coonskin cap then jogged off.


	14. King and Pawn 7

**King and Pawn**

"Daniel, I declare, you have suffered me to chatter without so much as the hint of a yawn. Your stamina for feminine prattle is heroic, but I desire to hear the voice that has been absent from my life for so long. Please indulge me with more stories of your dear little ones, Israel and Jemima."

"By the time I get back to Boonesborough, they may not be so little anymore."

Mrs. Breeden lips puckered into a pout. "Do you still walk about on your long solitary hunting adventures?"

"Yes, ma'am, much to Becky's distress."

"Remember me to Becky and the children upon your return home and kiss their cheeks a hundred times for me."

The parlor was pleasant and bright and Daniel felt like a buffalo bull in it, but he graciously assisted in pouring them both another cup of tea from the polished silver teapot. The melancholy tick of a mantel clock measured the silence between their nervous words of reunion.

Daniel reached over and ventured to lay his hand upon the small soft hand of the widow. "I'll be sure to visit whenever I'm in Williamsburg. Perhaps one day with my family in tow. Mama Breeden, you suspected when you first saw me this mornin' that somethin' was wrong involvin' Ahner. When was the last time you saw him? Does he visit often?"

The woman put her free hand to her cheek and closed her eyes for a moment. "Ahner suffered a visit last fall. In high spirits, he announced his intentions to start anew in Kentucky and become reacquainted with you. It was a lengthy visit for him as he is always upon some trade venture or another. Did he?"

"Did he what?"

"Find you? Did you see him?" she inquired with earnest wet eyes.

Daniel released the woman's hand, giving it a gentle pat. He picked up his coonskin cap from the floor at his feet and squeezed it as he avoided the gentle woman's soft inquiring gaze. "Sort of."

Mrs. Breeden's eyes, large, wide-set, and brilliant blue like Becky's, sat like jewels in her pleasant face. Her once golden curls were now snow white. The daughter of proud and prosperous French Huguenots that had fled France a century earlier and settled in Virginia, she had not lost any of her regal beauty and poise with age. He couldn't lie to her. "Ahner is in trouble."

"That is the true purpose of your visit isn't it, Daniel?"

"Yes, ma'am. He's sittin' in the jail."

A tear fell upon the woman's cheek. She stared off across the room as if embarrassed.

"I'm awfully sorry," Daniel said.

"If blame is requisite, then his father owns it. Gosner had no patience for the boy, or for me, the doting mother. It made Ahner intensely driven especially after his father disowned him. A moment of weakness overcame me when I gave him his inheritance after selling the plantation. A dear friend admonished me. He said it was foolhardy to attempt to buy my son's love—or his forgiveness. Odd the turns a life takes. I once believed you and Ahner cast from the same mould. Perhaps it was only a mother's fancy."

"Mama, you raised a good man. I knew that man as a friend for years, but somethin' snapped in Ahner when his wife died. I saw it, but he wouldn't let me or anyone else help. He slid into disgraceful ruin then became the devil's henchman. He's no longer the Ahner you knew but I suppose he's capable of resurrectin' the shadow of that man in your presence."

Mrs Breeden pulled a lace handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. "I used to thank Providence he had a friend such as you. I told Ahner every day that you were his blessing--that he needed to be more like you. The name of Daniel Boone was always on someone's lips--telling of some glorious adventure, or kind deed. Ahner would just wink and flash that flirtatious handsome smile and say, 'Yes Mama, Daniel Boone is a great man.'"

Daniel caught his breath as if the woman had punched him. He had felt responsible for the deaths of his and Ahner's sons and Ahner's subsequent descent into savagery. Perhaps his supposed friend had actually hated him much earlier than those murders.

"You were always composed and steady as a preacher in the face of troubles," Mrs. Breeden continued. "Ahner was a confident man but prone to overreact. Tom's death turned him to murder. I heard the flying reports that made their way to our remote community, though Gosner endeavored to conceal them from me. It caused me great distress when I learned my own son hunted down and murdered innocent Indians, even an unborn child."

Daniel grabbed the small shaking hand that rested on the arm of the chair. "You don't have to tell me, Mama."

"No, I desire to speak of it. To hear the words outside of myself. The governor struggled to calm the hostilities and find the renegades that murdered Tom and James. I rejoiced at Governor Dunsmore's kindness and attention. I cannot understand how people can so abhor the man now and with such vengeance. Those mock hangings and burnings on the green torment me to distraction."

The governor had known of Ahner Breeden and yet he denied it straight-faced. What sort of man was he? It was all news to Daniel that Dunsmore had tried to find the killer of James and Tom. No one like Lord Dunsmore would have thought that the death of James Boone, the son of a backwoods hunter and hired trail guide, deserved such attention. Tom Breeden, though, was the grandson of a wealthy old guard Virginian--a loyal subject of the Crown.

"Daniel, please share with me all that you know. I would rather hear it from you, than in the whispers of my neighbors at church, or the ridicule of the idle boys that rule the streets of this town."

"Even the British Empire couldn't handle Ahner. He and his cronies terrified my family for two days. He beat and tortured one good friend of mine and recently, with a grin on his face, shot my other good friend in the back. I can't afford to lose friends. I don't have as many as you might think."

Yadkin's frightened eyes as he was struck by that rifle ball rose up in Daniel's mind as if the ambush had just happened. Fretting compulsively, as he had done for the past nine days, Daniel wondered if Cincinnatus had slowed Yad's bleeding. If they had even made it to Salem. Did he send the boy, Jericho, to his death? The weary man was flushed with grief. Now he knew Ahner had acted on a cultivated hate for the legend of Daniel Boone. A jealous seed his mother planted in him long ago. At least Daniel felt freed of blame for Ahner, though it was a bitter reprieve.

"The bonds of friendship on the frontier can hold faster than blood," Mrs. Breeden said softy. "Do I know your friends?"

Mrs. Breeden crossed her arms across her breast and gripped her shoulders as if she was chilled. Daniel could see that the woman dwelled in loneliness and despair and he was only serving to make her fears concrete--to give them names and faces.

The inconsolable man took a deep breath and hesitated until Mrs. Breeden stared at him steadfast, inquiring.

"You probably remember Yadkin."

The woman's eyes widened, she opened her lips to speak but hesitated. "Carolina E. Yadkin?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Breeden dropped her hands to her lap. She shook her head from side to side slowly as a smile brightened her face. "Now there was a wild one no one could tame. I used to say he reminded me of Gosner's dogs--born to pet and run wild. He was a good-natured boy, but quite contrary."

Daniel laughed and rubbed his eyes to prevent tears from forming. "That's an apt description of Yad. It still fits."

"How is it possible? How could my dear affable Ahner bring himself to turn a weapon upon that laughing mop-haired Yadkin and pull the trigger?" Mrs. Breeden gasped. Her brow wrinkled, her lips quivered as she gave way to violent sobs that shook her petite form. Daniel wrapped his brawny arm around her small back and allowed her to lean into him. As he did so, he felt a release. It was as if an unseen hand lifted a mighty burden of guilt from his soul. His own pent-up tears startled him as they flowed freely with hers.

* * *

"Dunsmore is going home to England?" the tall dark Cornstalk asked, his black eyes pinned unblinking on the governor.

The royal appointee in perfect practiced poise glanced at Mingo then answered, "I have not met with success in my endeavors here, Cornstalk. Some might even say I have made things worse. I have not failed you in spirit, though. You and I still believe in the same thing."

"The colonial leaders are a flock of tall-necked birds each trying to honk louder than the other. They are distracted by this conflict with their father land."

Dunsmore nodded.

The chief, wrapped in a threadbare patterned blanket, inhaled a ragged breath and continued, "There is too much distance between the governing powers and their warriors. It is the same with us Shawnee. Young warriors act without thinking. They take pleasure in making the white people cry. They rape and murder the innocent to revenge rape and murder."

"It is a spiraling circle of revenge that has no end," Dunsmore said. "My friend, I shall be leaving the colony to board a ship and I may never return. I'm afraid my time is up here. Others must carry the peace flag. I would like you to meet my son, Cara-Mingo of the Cherokee. He is with Menewa in the south."

Cornstalk rivaled Daniel in height. He studied Mingo with a stern gaze for a long moment. "I am proud to meet the son of Dunsmore. Though our people, the Shawnee and the Cherokee, have been bitter enemies for as long as I can remember, I believe that reunion is necessary for our mutual survival. Cara-Mingo, this is my son Elinipsico."

The dark son's face was unreadable. He bowed his feathered topped head that was shaven, but for the traditional stiffened scalp lock. On his body was a frock of azure trade calico belted with a coral beaded band. Calico leggings covered his lean legs. The son clearly had not come for battle, but Mingo knew of him as an accomplished warrior. He had taken many scalps, both Cherokee and white.

"It is an honor to meet you, Cornstalk, and Elinipsico, in the presence of my father." Mingo resented his father for placing him in this situation.

"I understand from Dunsmore's letter," Cornstalk said, "that we have a shared interest in this man, Ahner Breeden."

"Yes. Daniel Boone and I consider Breeden a renegade, an instigator of war. He can not be allowed to return to Ken-Tah-Tay, nor should he walk any land as a free man."

"I agree," the chief said bluntly. "He set the embers ablaze under our young chiefs; giving them the hope of winning their lands back by slaughtering the white colonists. He claimed to be in war council with General Dunsmore. When I first heard this, I knew it was fallacy, but this Breeden can talk with a silver tongue. He is no friend to the Shawnee. As to this coming white-man's war that will play out around us--what is your stand Cara-Mingo?"

Mingo glanced at his father. "The Cherokee have always sought peace and balance--"

"But _you_, Cara-Mingo!" Cornstalk thundered. "I ask not what the Cherokee believe but what _you_ believe?" The chief fixed Mingo with his piercing eyes of coal until the Cherokee warrior was uncomfortable and wanted to look away.

"Cornstalk, I do not know what my father has told you about me, but I do not represent the Cherokee. I sit at their councils as a warrior. I am a skilled hunter for the tribe, but…."

"You do not know your strength? You are yet young. You have not crossed that winter where you feel yourself on a downward slope, or abandoned by your spirit guide. I understand. I only wish to know your heart."

Mingo was moved by Cornstalk's presence and words. He tried to speak from his heart. "Honorable peace. I wish for peace between the natives and the whites, but not a peace that makes dogs of the Cherokee. We are willing to talk and make treaties with the whites but all too often they play chess with our lives." Mingo glanced at his father.

Dunsmore smiled and bowed as if to acknowledge his son's accusation.

Cornstalk laughed unexpectedly and seized Mingo's shoulder with a strong hand. "I have learned that game from your father. It is merely the practice of cunning and foresight to sharpen the mind."

The governor was still smiling at Mingo, but the older man's knuckles were white as he gripped the molded edge of his desk. He was nervous about this meeting.

"I never had any interest in the game of chess," Mingo said. "I am something of a disappointment to my father."

"Cara-Mingo, I ask of you and my son to consider my words," the chief said with a sigh. "It is difficult to accept that the white farmers will outnumber us and continue to push us towards the setting sun. Yet we must see the truth that even though we may be stronger of mind and spirit and more clever, we are as the busy beaver faced with an overwhelming flood. We must take into consideration our white friend's weaker nature in our dealings with him. Let him believe that he is our elder brother so that he might open his eyes to see our young warrior's distress and open his ears to hear the cries of our women and children."

"But father if I may speak?" the son asked.

Cornstalk nodded.

"The white man has not understanding of how to live upon this land. He takes and treats it as a thing he owns then he butchers everything on it. He is stupid. He must train his animals and plants to be stupid as well so that he can easily kill them and not starve."

Cornstalk looked affectionately at his son. "Elinipsico, even so that we see the nature of this tribe that has invaded our lands, attempting to stop it with a bullet, or a blade, only stirs a giant hornet's nest which turns in blind rage upon us and slaughters without reason or mercy. We must rather teach as we would teach children."

"Yes, father. I understand what you say, but I fear the English will even steal that from us. They will take our children and make them English like him." Elinipsico pointed to Mingo. "They will turn them against their own blood, their own ways of knowing and make them dumb like sheep."

"Do you see Dunsmore," Cornstalk said, "the strife is even within our families. Son against father, brother against brother."

The old native turned to Mingo with sorrowful eyes. "I journey to find good men, wise men of like mind be they white or red, or even the two-faced Iroquois to the north. We all want the same for our families--peace, prosperity, an honorable future for our children. I bring my son so that he might hear what I hear and know what I know for I do not have many summers left."

"Then you must meet Daniel Boone," Mingo said.

"I wish to meet Sheltowee," Cornstalk said. "He lives on land that is contended by our people. Those were our hunting grounds. The Shawnee live by hunting. Now we are an oppressed people. We the Shawnee stand alone against these Virginians who dicker over our land and barter for it while we yet live upon it. Even our close brothers will not help us."

"Boone has knowledge of the Shawnee," Mingo said, "but he has gained it through Blackfish and Blue Jacket, your war chiefs."

"Good, then I have even more reason to speak with him," the chief said wearily. "We have had a long journey and must rest until the moon sets. We must still talk of what to do with the man, Breeden."

"That shall be arranged," Dunsmore said.

The chief and his son left. Mingo turned to leave but his father placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Mingo, what do you think of Cornstalk? Tell me truly. Is he fool or wise man?"

"He is a good honest man."

"Then you agree with him?"

"I am more inclined to agree with his son."

"That you are somehow less of a man, or less of a Cherokee because you are half English?"

"Yes."

"Why not the view that you are more than a Cherokee and more than an Englishman?"

"I suppose because the world favors the latter view."

"Why not change the world's view?"

Mingo turned his face towards his father. He peered into the shallow blue eyes as if searching a dim mirror for a like reflection, but he found only the cold indifferent stare of entrenched authority. The eyes narrow, set in a finely chiseled shield of white, were not his eyes, nor any other feature. "It is too late for this conversation is it not?"

"Yes. I suppose, but I hate that you so misunderstood my intentions towards you. You are my son."

"In what way? Cornstalk makes me feel small and empty like that straw man the mob burned on the green. He is as a towering tree rooted in this land with many branches. I am a seed thrown on hard ground. His son is right to condemn what I am and to stand in opposition to that which created me."

The governor smiled and shook his head. "I see a Cornstalk in you and it is not only a father's eyes that sees that. It is only you that has to be convinced. Come with me to England. Let me introduce you to political leaders in Parliament. The English believe that everyone here is with the revolutionaries. They are ready to give up the colonies. They have not heard the native voice, your voice, Cara-Mingo."

Mingo dropped his head and rubbed his eyes. Suddenly overcome with fatigue, he wanted only to be with Daniel and talk to him. "I will not return with you to England. My home--my place is here no matter how small and insignificant it seems to you. If fighting is required, I will make my stand here on Cherokee soil. Good night, Governor."

Dunsmore gripped Mingo's shoulder arresting his movement. "Do you really think this rifle over your shoulder or that rope, knife and tomahawk at your belt can fight off legions of European settlers? If so, then perhaps I have misjudged you. They will break over you like waves on a beach until you are grounded into that precious soil at your feet."

The native wrenched away from the talon clutch of his father and rushed from the room. He leapt like a panther over the railing of the stairs to the floor then crashed through the door, slamming it against its hinges as he exited into the night. He sped for the campsite where he had agreed to meet Daniel. Though having escaped in body, he carried in his mind the haunting of his father's words.

* * *

"Daniel Boone, is that you?" Breeden moaned in a cavernous voice as he rolled over on the wood bunk rattling the chains that held him there. The voice and the clang of the chains reverberated in the dark, empty cell. Moonlight streamed through a small barred window making the prisoner's face a ghost.

"Yep." Daniel stood in a secured courtyard and peered through the bars of the cell door at the dark hulk of Ahner Breeden.

"I knew you would come."

"I've just come from a visit with your mother."

"Don't bring her here for God's sake," Breeden growled.

"What a thoughtful son you are."

"Those Shawnee still out there guarding me?"

"Yep. How did you end up in their hands?"

"That was none of your doing? Then your fabled cunning and brilliance is simply luck?" Breeden roared with laughter. "How disappointing. I ran right into their arms."

"Dunsmore arranged Cornstalk's presence here."

"Dunsmore sent me to Kentucky."

"Liar."

Breeden sat up abruptly and rubbed his face in his hands. "Things just didn't go exactly as he planned."

"You're only heapin' more guilt onto the baggage of evidence against you."

"I'm a dead man anyway, Boone. You're going to let Cornstalk have me aren't you?"

"That decision hasn't been made and it's probably not mine to make."

"I could talk my way out of a hanging, Daniel. My kind of people will listen and believe. I know just what to say. You turned me over to the Shawnee and they forced me to attack my own kind. They made a slave of me."

Daniel remained silent as he stared at the lifted square jaw that yet sought to bully even while the body was shackled.

"I don't want to live," Breeden said. "Let Dunsmore decide, or Cornstalk that I may be assured of death. At least with the Shawnee I know how I will die. They will tie me to a tree and each of those warriors will use my head as target practice, trying to just miss. Then they will light a fire at my feet, force me to walk on it, stick firebrands in my side goading me to cry out for mercy. Finally, I will be burned alive, cremated to black bones and ash. My smoke a final glorious belch into the sky."

"Don't be so sure of an honorable death from the Shawnee. And Dunsmore? What would he do?"

Breeden's demonic laughter sounded like a pack of barking wolves as it echoed off the bare wood walls. "If he can find a way to get away with it, I'll be shot in the head or lost at sea. I'm an embarrassment for him."

The chained captive fell silent as if in thought for a long moment then he growled, "I know too much about that imperial gentleman as he shared my mother's bed."

Daniel caught his breath and gripped the door's iron bars. He was thankful the door was padlocked as he would have killed Ahner Breeden with his very hands at that moment.

"He shall not want me telling a judge or jury about that," Breeden mumbled. "Nope. I'm a dead man, unless you somehow convince them to give me a trial by jury here on this soil."

"You shot Yadkin in the back. A man you once knew as a friend."

Breeden was quiet. He fumbled with the shackles at his wrists. "I didn't know it was Yad. I'm truly sorry about that."

"Liar!"

The prisoner chuckled. "He was always your pet hound anyway. He believed in you. Never a word came from Yad, but was praise for you. And the great Daniel Boone, friend of the common man, used to tell me Yad was nothing but a wildcat walking on two legs--pure one-hundred-percent-proof trouble. Boone, seems to me you really ought to be thanking your ole friend Ahner for eliminating a serious hitch in your side."

"I'll admit I've been a mite ticked-off with Yad from time to time. He has a rebellious spirit, but you shot him out of pure meanness!"

"Stop expecting remorse from me, Boone!"

Daniel took a deep breath and grunted angrily in reply. He waited to speak until he could regain his composure.

"A jury trial will not be a walk on the green and a few hours in the stocks," Daniel said. "Maybe when it was Indians you were alleged to have killed, but Yadkin was one o' your own kind and enough people know him here and a whole lot o' people know and love him in Salem and Kentucky. You slipped up, Ahner. Your neck's in a noose. All that's left is to yank it."

Breeden swallowed hard. "Is he dead?"

"I don't know."

"So what are you going to do with me?"

"It's not my decision to make. I just came to see you safely to bed. Wouldn't want anyone draggin' your sorry hide out o' here and dousin' it with hot tar."

* * *

Daniel was fiery hot when he left Breeden. He ran as fast as he could into the moonlit night to flee the town and cool down before he found Mingo.

As he silently approached the camp, Daniel saw that the Cherokee had a crackling fire and rabbits roasting. He smiled at the familiar scene and the absurdity of it being a mile out of civilized Williamsburg with warm beds and warm food on every corner.

"Mingo, you save any of that rabbit for me?"

"I've got a whole one here for you, Daniel."

"Thank you, kindly. I'm starved. So tell me about this Cornstalk."

Daniel flopped down on his blanket, leaned against the convenient log Mingo had arranged and propped his knees up. He accepted the juicy rabbit-on-a-stick his friend offered.

"He is an impressive man. A man of peace among the Shawnee."

"Really? Now that's a rare bird. Is he a friend of your father's?"

"He probably thinks he is, but my father's idea of friendship differs significantly from yours and mine."

"So. Dunsmore was in collusion with the Shawnee but not exactly for the reasons most folk believe?"

Mingo smirked and wiped his hands on his blue pants legs. "Whenever I have to spend five minutes with my father I want to run and find a jug of Cincinnatus's bear juice."

Daniel observed Mingo quietly for a moment.

The Cherokee remained sullen and silent.

"So tell me about it," the frontiersman said as he gnawed the flavorful meat.

"You are thinking of the many funerals you may be facing on your return home. You do not need to hear my personal troubles."

"This is as good a time as any. I had a little help puttin' things right in my mind this evenin'. The world doesn't look nearly as bleak as it has for the past nine days. It's a relief just knowin' Breeden isn't in Kentucky."

"I don't understand this war," Mingo said. "My father seems to think it threatens the Cherokee."

Daniel leaned forward and studied his troubled friend's black eyes. "What exactly did he say to you?"

"What do you see when you look at me?"

The question surprised the frontiersman. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

Daniel removed his coonskin cap and scratched his head. "Well. I see an intelligent strong sensitive young man. A sober and wise man whose advice I value above all other men I know. Though at times a man who is reluctant to lead or say what he truly feels. Oh….and most importantly, a kick-bum wrestler who makes the best corn cakes I've ever tasted."

Mingo laughed. "That is appropriate. I sound like a confusion."

"Isn't the more important question what do you see when you look at your reflection?"

"Perhaps to men like you and I, but not men like my father, and apparently not Cornstalk either. A Shawnee chief searched for something in me tonight and I did not feel equal to it."

"Like what?"

Mingo shrugged.

"Mingo, I'm just a simple man of simple means. For what it's worth, I believe fathers can see in the child the man to be. Take Israel for instance. You and I both have a pretty good idea of the outline of the man he will become."

"You will not force upon him your notion of what his life should be to benefit yourself."

"I hope I won't. I take it your father has high expectations where you are concerned and it makes you feel incomplete perhaps?"

"You are very perceptive for a simple man, Daniel."

"Is he tryin' to persuade you to return to England to assist in this quarrel between the Americans and the King?"

"Yes again."

"I don't blame him for that, Mingo. You can be very persuasive, but it comes from your natural honesty. I think you'd be uncomfortable if you were asked to lie or color the truth a mite to further a political goal."

Mingo turned and smiled at his friend. "As in using straw man arguments to further a cause? Give me liberty, or give me death?"

Daniel's eyes widened. "The headline in today's paper? Sounds like a slogan to me."

"The words of a man named Patrick Henry." Mingo pulled the newspaper from his bandolier and threw it at Daniel's feet. "He is the thorn in my father's side. No one has enslaved the white colonists. What does this Patrick Henry want? Tell me the truth."

"I don't know for sure myself what Patrick Henry wants, but it must be somethin' terrible as I hear tell the British have him on a list for arrest and hangin'."

Mingo frowned.

"Far as I know, he's just another wealthy Virginia politician with the gift for gab, and a desire for Shawnee land." Daniel said.

"What do you mean?"

"You asked for the truth. The Virginians want the land. All of it, even north of the Ohio--the Ohio Valley. The British have made treaties with the Shawnee that require no white settlement north of the Ohio. To some folk, liberty means freedom from honoring those treaties."

Mingo dropped his head. "There is no liberty for the native then? Only annihilation or slavery?"

"I don't know. We have to hope for better. I know I've no power to bring to bear upon it."

"Daniel, you have power. I witnessed it today."

"Ah, Mingo, I'm just a commoner. They like my story and perhaps the way I string my words together. You though, sir, obviously don't recognize your own power. It's in your look, in your voice. You grabbed those men by their imaginations and bent their ears. I'd be wearin' a tar suit right now if you hadn't been there."

Mingo furrowed his brows in doubt. He looked down at himself. "I fail to see how one lone Cherokee can stand up to the might of an empire or a rebellion. I'm a cautious man, Daniel."

The frontiersman chuckled and shook his head. "It's merely a talent to lead and the gumption to do it. Some men have it and never realize it. Even Yad has it. You've seen how he can herd those settlers at the fort like sheep. Only problem—he's sendin' 'em down the wrong trail most o' the time. That's why I keep him on a short leash."

Mingo laughed. "And Breeden?"

"Yep."

"You have any other insight into my condition to share with me?" the Cherokee asked with a sideways glance at his friend.

"In the words of my dead father, Dunsmore sees you as an investment that he'd still like to receive a return on."

Mingo nodded. "So tell me more about your relationship with your father."

"He could've sent me to school like all my other siblings. He was prosperous and had the money, but he knew I didn't belong there. He let me follow my own head. I'm thankful for that until I have to take care of a bit of business like debts and land deals then I miss my father's advice. I never felt comfortable in his world of business or politics, and because I didn't go to school, I still flounder like a beached fish."

"I do not see that you are missing anything, Daniel."

"Some day the world will no longer value a man like me. Skill with a rifle, or woodcraft, won't be important."

"Not in your lifetime."

"I'm not so sure o' that. Things are movin' pretty fast. Take this war for instance. The world will trample men like me. All that'll remain o' Daniel Boone will be stories told around campfires to children."

Mingo dropped his head. He dug at the dying embers of the fire with a stick. "The Cherokee will only be stories told around campfires to white children."

"You asked for advice. If you are askin' on behalf of the Cherokee, then I'll tell you the same thing I've told Blackfish, stay neutral."

"That is what I have been trying to do," Mingo said brandishing the ash covered stick in the air and addressing the rabbits, "but after this trip, I am not sure it is the right thing. How can I just sit on the side and let other men decide my fate?" He turned his fierce furrowed brow and steady eyes upon his friend.

The depth of his companion's uncharacteristic display of self-inflicted anxiety took Daniel aback. He thought that was his own private affliction.

"Watch out, my friend," the frontiersman said. "These men, like Cleves, your father, and maybe even Cornstalk, are sizin' you up as to how you might assist them with their respective causes. I've learned through the school of hard-knocks that if you agree to help them in some manner, make sure you have somethin' in writin' upfront with substantial collateral that you will receive a real concrete return."

Mingo laughed brightly. "Daniel, I believe that is your father talking."

"Might be. Now I'm goin' to finish off this rabbit," Daniel licked his fingers, "then I'm goin' to get some shut-eye. We have to rise as the moon sets. I don't reckon we need to set watch around here. As Dr. Cleves told me when I first met him, there are only squirrels in these woods around Williamsburg, and though their bark is fierce, their bite is not."

The native smirked and proceeded to finish his part of the repast.


	15. King and Pawn 8

**King and Pawn**

Before the sun rose, Mingo found himself in a saddle again. He and Daniel led twelve mounted British marines, twenty trotting Shawnee warriors, two bound prisoners on horseback, and one royal governor sitting in a carriage with a Shawnee chief to the York river. The trip was quiet and uneventful--the first pleasantly cool day the Kentuckians had experienced since their arrival in the Tidewater basin.

Mingo did not let the tall-grassed marshlands or the winged wildlife haloed by the dawn light distract his thoughts this day. Instead, he practiced all the things he should have said to his father the night before as if rehearsing the closing act of a tragic opera.

At the mouth of the river where it met the Chesapeake Bay, a British ship-of-the-line waited like a gray ghost hulk in the cool morning fog. Diving white seagulls at the ship's stern and the clang of the rigging against the three naked masts gave evidence that it was no phantom. Three decks of black gun ports gaped at its side like angry mouths warning of destruction and bloodletting to come.

A small skiff manned by two sailors waited at shore. The oarsmen shackled together the governor's prisoners, Ahner Breeden and Major Halpen, then rowed them through the low white mist to the ship.

In the idle moment, Mingo conversed with Daniel as they remained on their horses.

"I am surprised you are letting Dunsmore take Breeden," Mingo said. "It seems a waste to not have him tried in a court here and teach other would-be lords-of-lawlessness by example."

"I'm not happy about it," Daniel said with a crooked frown, "but I was out voted. Dunsmore showed me a law on the books that says traitors to the King must be tried in England. Cornstalk wanted Dunsmore to take Breeden to England. He feared killin' the man would cause unrest between the Shawnee and the whites on the frontier. I just wanted you and Yad to see Breeden hangin' from a noose."

"Did you speak to Breeden last night?" Mingo asked.

Daniel sighed and dropped his head. "Yep. His words are cankerous lies. He still claims Dunsmore sent him to Kentucky."

"That would explain why the governor denied knowledge of Ahner Breeden," Mingo said. "He admitted to me that he did know of him."

The frontiersman grimaced and pulled his coonskin cap up to scratch his head. After replacing his cap, and adjusting it carefully, he turned a weary face to his Cherokee friend. "Mingo, I've a pretty good idea of the explanation for that, but it's not worth airin'."

Mingo sat back on his horse and frowned at his friend. "Are you trying to protect _me_ from the truth of my father's vices?"

Daniel grinned. "Dunsmore may--and I say this without sure proof—he may have had a relationship with Ahner's mother, Ahlouette Breeden. If you met the woman, you'd understand how that might happen to a green royal governor tryin' to win the allegiance of the planter class of Tidewater Virginia."

"If that were true," Mingo said, "then he may have sought to protect the son and cover up his activities."

Daniel nodded. He looked off towards the water. "The skiff's returning to retrieve the governor." The two friends dismounted and walked to the makeshift dock.

Dunsmore was dressed in the polished uniform of a British general. A black-ribboned queue at the back of his neck tamed his natural gray-streaked hair. His left hand rested on the hilt of a sword hung at his side, probably only for decorum. The governor seemed lost in contemplation as he stared off across the river that was quickly losing its blanket of fog. Was he troubled by remorse for his own actions, or like a battered victim, ticking off the list of affronts played upon him by his adversaries? Mingo surmised that given his father's propensity for looking into the future, the general was plotting schemes of attack and counterattack for regaining the rebellious colony of Virginia. Like an unruffled focused chess player, he would have already charted in his cunning mind all of his enemy's potential moves and his own endgame.

"We may see each other in battle, Captain Boone," Dunsmore said. "I am yet to know my orders."

Daniel smiled and leaned on his gun. He pushed his coonskin cap back on his head. "Most battles I know about, the generals sit in the back and the soldiers do all the killin' that's to be done. But I hear tell that you are a different sort of general who goes into the field and shares the dangers and the privations of war with his soldiers. If that be the case, General Dunsmore, I suggest you keep your head down."

Dunsmore smiled. "I'd have a hard time killing you, Captain Boone." He clasped his hands behind his back. Standing erect and confident as if the day was like any other for a King's agent, he said, "I want to give you a parting gift and I ardently wish that you will accept it--unlike your wife's dismissal of my previous generous offer."

"Well, now, that all depends on the strings attached," Daniel said with raised brows.

"On the afternoon I spent with Dr. Cleves, I gave him Porto Bello, my hunting lodge, but there was a rider to the transaction, which he readily accepted."

Daniel glanced with a puzzled look at Mingo.

"There is a room-size vault hidden behind a paneled wall in my study at the lodge. It contains about fourteen hundred pounds of gold coins and several deeds to property in the Ohio Valley. Whatever is in that vault is yours. The land will grow in value once the Ohio Valley is open to settlement."

Mingo felt his face flush with the familiar anger only his father could engender. "Land speculation in the Ohio Valley? Does Cornstalk know that _you_ have bought his land while he yet resides upon it?"

"Now, Mingo," Dunsmore said with a sideways glance towards his son, "I was only doing what all the gentlemen of Virginia have been doing for the past ten years. You can ask those vaunted Virginians--Washington, Henry and Jefferson--to explain it."

"General," Daniel said, "the people of Kentuck don't take charity."

"Please, Captain Boone, it is but a small gesture. Given the state of affairs between the colonies and the Crown and the likelihood of war, I would like for some Americans to remember me as the honorable man I believe myself to be before they learn to hate me as God knows what labels the rebels will place upon my head."

"I'll accept your gracious gift on behalf of the many families of Boonesborough, as a gesture of goodwill. However, General, you have not bought their allegiance."

The governor lifted his chin and studied Daniel with narrowed eyes. "Of course not, Captain, I would not be so naive as to think that."

Daniel offered his hand to the departing general and they shook warmly. Dunsmore pulled a large packet from his coat pocket. "I wish for you to deliver this to Dr. Cleves at the hunting lodge. Captain, I recommend that you give it to him after you have the gold in your hands."

The frontiersman accepted the sealed packet and stuck it inside his hunting frock.

Daniel glanced at Mingo for a moment. "General, I have one question for you before we part."

"What is that Captain Boone?"

"What's to happen to your servants? I see you're not takin' them with you."

"I really don't know, nor do I care. The rebels will no doubt move that ungracious Patrick Henry into the residence in Williamsburg as soon as they trump up some title for him." The governor exhaled a sharp breath. "Something along the lines of Pickle-tongued Purveyor of Insidious Cant would be appropriate."

The frontiersman chuckled and turned to walk away leaving Mingo with his father, but he said to the Cherokee, "I'll be waitin' for you with the Shawnee. If you don't return in half-an-hour we're headin' home without ya."

"Yes, Daniel."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Mingo step silently to the side of his frontier friend.

"That was quick," Daniel said.

"There was nothing left to say. He is gone. Thank you, Daniel."

"For what?"

"For being a simple honest man."

Daniel smiled and put his great arm across his Cherokee friend's shoulders. "Cornstalk, would you mind travelin' with us back to Boonesborough? I fear that Blackfish will have warriors waitin' at the pass for our return."

"I would be honored to do so," Cornstalk said. "I want to become better acquainted with this simple honest man Daniel Boone and his friend Cara-Mingo."

Mingo whispered to Daniel, "I don't know about you, but I cannot wait to see the look on Yadkin's face when he sees these Shawnee."

Daniel sighed. "I pray to Providence to hear him howl about it." He released his grip on the friend he was thankful not to have lost to England. Now he had to consider how they were to return safely through the Cumberland Trace. "Cornstalk, we need to make a stop a few miles west of here and pick up a load."

"The gold that Breeden stole from your people?"

Daniel was surprised that the old chief knew about that.

"Dunsmore told me in his letter. I and these warriors will go with you to retrieve the gold."

"Why Cornstalk, I don't know what to say…but thank you."

"Just remember me, Sheltowee. Remember me as a friend and a man of peace as I have remembered you by my presence here today. That is all I ask."

* * *

When Daniel, Mingo and the Shawnee reached Porto Bello, everything was quiet and peaceful with no hint of the raging mob that had hidden there the day before.

"There doesn't appear to be anyone here, Daniel," Mingo said.

"If it's all the same to you," Daniel said, "I'm goin' to take a look around. Tell Cornstalk to keep his warriors out o' sight 'til I signal them."

"What are you expecting? It is only Dr. Cleves we are to meet."

Daniel grunted. "Mingo, seems to me you'd a-learned by now how to read a white man's eyes and know the color of his heart."

Mingo stiffened at the implication of Daniel's statement. "You suspect that soft-handed gracious Cleves of some duplicity towards us?"

"Yep. Let's hope I'm wrong. Look here along this sandy road. Fresh tracks of many horses, and multiple carriages." Daniel gripped his rifle in one hand and trotted off behind the house towards the stables.

The Cherokee waited and watched with Cornstalk behind tall brush.

Soon, Daniel returned, trotting back behind the cover of the bushes. "Horses and carriages are in the stable—multiple foot tracks to the house. I'd say there's close to twenty men in there."

"Thieves?" Mingo asked.

"Nah. If it was plunderin' they were about they wouldn't be goin' about it so quiet like. Well, I reckon the only way to find out what's goin' on is for you and me to go knock on the door. Perhaps we are expected. Don't let anyone take your weapons, though."

Daniel turned to Cornstalk. "Watch our backs, friend." The chief nodded.

Mingo and Daniel stood at the door and waited after banging the knocker. They heard muffled voices, then footsteps. The paneled door creaked on its hinges as it opened slowly to reveal Dr. Meriwether Cleves.

"Mr. Boone? Mingo? How wonderful to see you."

"Doctor," Daniel said. "You all right?"

"Quite. Please come inside. There are no servants, but I do have some brandy on hand if you would like to share it with me."

"Thanks," Daniel said, "but we just come for the gold."

The doctor's gray-streaked eyebrows arched. He glanced to the side as if expecting someone to speak from behind. "The gold?"

"Yep. Lord Dunsmore said--"

"Oh, yes, yes, of course. Please accept my apology. I have been distracted of late."

Cleves walked stiffly to a side door and opened it. "The gold is in here, Mr. Boone."

Daniel glanced at his native companion who smirked to indicate his disapproval but both men stepped forward keeping Dr. Cleves in front of them.

The doctor continued inside the adjacent room and put out his hand into the darkened space beyond the door. "Please enter, gentlemen."

Daniel stuck his head through the door opening, as a gesture of reconnaissance. He turned back towards Mingo and smiled. The tall frontiersman removed his coonskin cap and stuck in his belt. The Cherokee cocked the flintlock of his loaded rifle and followed his friend into the room.

A large group of stern faces greeted them with silence; their eyes riveted upon the two newcomers. By the dress of the men, it was clear they were colonials—planters, or merchants of some wealth--but their purpose was clandestine. The windows were draped, making the room dark but for some scattered lanterns. Some men sat at a table that was laden with papers and a strongbox. The Cherokee was leery, but he uncocked his gun and sat the heel of it on the floor between his feet.

"Mr. Washington," Daniel said addressing a tall gentleman in military uniform, "It's mighty good to see you again, sir. I hope your family is well."

"Quite well, Daniel, thank you. Please come in. Your friend is welcome, too."

The men complied. Cleves closed the door behind them and stepped forward to face Daniel and Mingo. "Mr. Boone, I am sure your mind is filled with uncertainty and dread--"

"No. Doctor we had an agreement that I wouldn't pry into your affairs if you didn't pry into mine. I shan't ask any questions."

Cleves turned and smiled to the other men. Then he slumped and removed his white wig revealing a head covered with dark chestnut hair. He pulled his eyebrows and sideburns off, removed the wrinkles from his forehead then threw the disguise at his feet. As he loosened his silk cravat, he ventured a shy glance at the guests. "Mr. Boone, I simply can not continue this dastardly deception after everything you have been through."

Daniel and Mingo looked at each other with furrowed brows as Cleves suddenly lost twenty years of age right before their eyes.

"I see," Daniel said. "Might you tell us who you really are then?"

"My name is Meriwether Cleves and I have a medical practice in Williamsburg, but I was never a friend of Governor Dunsmore." The doctor smirked. "I am a spy. It was a sordid affair, but as they say…someone had to do it." Cleves glanced shyly at Mingo, but did not hold his gaze.

"I reckon that's your business, Dr. Cleves," Daniel said. "And Percy?"

The doctor dropped his head and clasped his hands behind his back. "Percy is my younger brother not my nephew." Cleves lifted his head and stared with unblinking steady young eyes at Daniel. "I'm afraid it is now your business as well. This gold has been confiscated by the Virginia representatives to the Continental Congress to be applied towards the resupply of the capital's stock of gunpowder and weapons. The governor's residence in Williamsburg, his servants, the furnishings and this property will be sold as well."

"Oh."

Cleaves blinked and swallowed. "I explained to these gentlemen your circumstances and how you were simply caught unawares in a snare that was none of your own making—"

"Snare?" Daniel asked.

Dr. Cleves was almost panting. He could not hold Daniel's steady gaze. "Oh Mr. Boone, Mingo, I am so sorry. I am so sorry about all of this. It was never intended to turn into murder and mayhem on the frontier."

Daniel grew alert. He stood up straight.

Staring at the worn rug at his feet, Cleves continued, "The plan was to simply uncover the governor's own duplicity in his land dealings and his contrivance to ally with the Shawnee against Virginians. It all went terribly wrong. We lost control when this Ahner Breeden who purported to be a ship's captain and knowledgeable of the frontier--and your friend--decided to seek his own gain. He deceived us."

A lanky sharp-boned man of tall stature stepped forward from the rear of the room. "Mr. Boone, my name is Patrick Henry."

Daniel nodded and remained silent.

"What Dr. Cleves is trying to explain," Henry said, "is that we are responsible for Ahner Breeden's presence in Kentucky and his subsequent debauchery."

The tall Kentuckian stood thoughtful for a moment. "Ahner kept telling me that Dunsmore sent him to Kentucky."

"He was led to believe that by my carefully cultivated friendship with the governor," Cleves said, "and the fact that Major Halpen was easily bought. Everyone in Williamsburg considers me a loyal subject of King George--a Tory."

"Dr. Cleves serves his country by merely practicing a talent he developed as a part-time thespian at Harvard," Mr. Henry said.

Daniel puckered his lips and furrowed his brow. "So, Breeden never knew who was behind his orders?"

"That is correct," Henry said.

"It added greatly to the calamity," Cleves said, "that the governor chose to ignore Breeden's activities though he knew full well from his own spies what was going on in Kentucky. I am still at a loss to explain that."

Mingo shared a knowing look with Daniel, but the frontiersman did not speak what he knew of Dunsmore's possible affair with Breeden's mother. Daniel would consider that gossip-mongering.

"That's all very interestin'," Daniel said. "but the way I see it, you gentlemen owe the good people of Boonesborough nine hundred pounds in some form, preferably the gold they were expecting to receive for their hard-earned skins and furs. You simply pay us what we come for and we'll leave and pretend we never met you."

Henry pivoted to face the other assembled men, turning his back to the frontiersman. "We are confiscating the gold found here for the Cause."

"For whose cause, Mr. Henry," Daniel asked.

"The cause of liberty, Mr. Boone," Henry boomed as he turned his head to stare with cold blue eyes at Daniel over his shoulder. "We require arms and gunpowder to convince the British that we mean to be free of their King's yoke."

"Well that might be a worthy cause," Daniel said, "but how are you goin' to convince the common man to take up your cause if you think so little of his life as to deprive him of his earnin's?"

"Daniel," Washington said, "we are all being called upon to make sacrifices. There is not a man in this room that doesn't feel the King's noose upon his neck or has not come to the awareness, upon reflection, that his life, his family, his property is at stake. I would have thought that you understood the risks of living upon the frontier and being the forefront of Virginia's defense."

"Sir," Daniel said, "I do know of what you speak, but you are in essence pullin' the rug out from under my feet. If I return to the settlement without that gold, you're goin' to see a massive migration out of Kentucky back into southern Virginia and those folk might let their ill-treatment determine their side of this war."

A tall red-headed youthful gentleman at the back of the room said quietly, "General Washington, he is right. You cannot overburden these small farmers and expect them to join this Cause."

"General?" Daniel asked suprised.

"Yes, Mr. Boone," Henry swung about on his heels and snarled impatiently, "General Washington is the commander of the newly formed Continental Army."

Henry walked stiffly forward towards Mingo and inspected him as if he were a newly bought slave, or at least that is how the prickly scrutiny made the Cherokee feel.

A voice from the shadows at the rear of the room said, "The last thing we need is more small farmers squatting on land they don't own. Why Dunsmore could turn that into a fighting force right on our own soil. Add the Indians and the slaves to that and we could not defend ourselves."

"Who is defending you now, sir, if I may ask," Daniel said. "Is it not my kind that defends Virginia? Last time I answered a militia muster, I don't recall any of your faces being present."

"Now Daniel," Washington said, "of course the efforts of the Long Knives on the frontier are greatly needed and appreciated."

"Some of us served in the Second Continental Congress, Boone," Henry said, "taking a stand of defense against what is essentially an invasion of a tyrant who has usurped our rights as freeborn Englishmen. We are merely making decisions to provide for our defense. You can't fight a war without munitions, arms, ships and you can't turn tobacco into gunpowder, especially with England controlling where it can be sold and to whom. An arsenal of weaponry may be purchased immediately with the gold. The property will take longer to recover its value for our purposes."

"Mr. Henry," the red-headed youth said so low it caused everyone in the room to strain to hear him, "you will never persuade Virginians to fight your war. You simply cannot make a Virginian do what he doesn't want to do."

"Mr. Jefferson," Henry said, "now is not the time--"

As all eyes focused on the youth, his freckled face turned red.

"Mr. Boone," a silver-haired gentleman boomed, interrupting Mr. Henry, "did you know you saved two lives today—Lord Dunsmore's and Patrick Henry's."

The room erupted in quiet chuckles and murmurs.

Henry rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Mr. Boone, allow me to introduce my distinguished colleague, Mr. George Mason."

Mr. Mason, the oldest man in the room, continued his sally, undaunted, "Why, Mr. Boone, if you had not so conveniently arrived upon the scene to shuttle Mr. Dunsmore to safety, those two would have made a spectacle of themselves on the town green--butting heads like two old bulls."

"George," Mr. Washington said, "Daniel has provided a much greater service then merely removing an inconvenient royal governor. He removed an embarrassment--Ahner Breeden--from his reign of glory-seeking anarchy."

"Well then, I vote to pay the man for his services," Mason said with a flourish of his lace-cuffed hand.

Patrick Henry was still studying the Cherokee. "Indian, pray tell us, why are you here?"

"Well, since you asked." Mingo pulled the worn newspaper from his bandolier and turned it to show the Virginian the headline.

The lawyer squinted his eyes and jutted out his bony jaw. His thin lips remained an unerring straight line on his face. "That is a bit of my rhetoric. I can't very well deny it."

The other men chuckled.

"What do you mean by this?" the Cherokee asked.

Henry, with a pronounced scowl upon his face said, "It is a call to arms, sir. I use words to stir the hearts of men that they might march their feet in the defense of this country. In the case of Virginians, it takes strong words, as stirring their hearts, and their feet from their warm firesides, is akin to stirring a pot of cold pitch."

"The honorable Mr. Henry is our official brow-beater and bum-kicker, sir," Mr. Mason said eliciting laughter from the assembled men.

"Do you not think it dishonest to claim to be enslaved while you hold men in chains?" Mingo asked.

Henry raised a dark eyebrow. "You make a good point, of course. I have already been beaten about the head by my northern brethren on that account. Am I speaking to an English abolitionist, then?"

"I am an American, but you, sir...I have learned of late...are a _Virginian_." Mingo drawled the last word with a contemptuous snarl.

Henry chuckled without smiling.

"Two points for the Cherokee, none for the feisty lawyer from Virginia," Mason cackled, once again leading the other men to laughter.

Henry stepped closer to Mingo and peered with hard eyes upon the native's face. "Tell me then, sir, as an American, what stand do you take in this conflict?"

Mingo looked down and filled his lungs with air then lifted his eyes to glare at the stern mastiff before him. "Well, Mr. Henry, the truth is I find myself undecided."

The Virginia lawyer's eyes widened, his lips quivered as if they might form a smile, or at least they showed signs of a remembrance of having done so at some time in his life. "Indeed? How delightful. Did you hear that, gentlemen? Oh to have a boatload of such undecided men instead of the mass of disinterested ballast that fills our hull."

"Sir," Daniel said calmly addressing the tallest of the men, General Washington, "the people of Kentuck are willin' to make their contributions to your effort. But lettin' them be robbed, whipped, shot and starved then thinkin' that an appropriate sacrifice is not a cause I wish to be part of."

The revolutionaries blinked at each other.

"Pardon my plain English, gentlemen, but here's how it's goin' to be," Daniel continued. "I've got twenty Shawnee outside that I'm goin' to send in here to retrieve exactly nine hundred pounds of gold and then we're goin' to be on our way back to Kentuck."

The men became agitated upon those words. Those seated stood abruptly. Chairs fell over with a clatter on the floor.

"Mr. Boone, what are you saying?" Henry said, all of his attention now riveted upon the tall backwoodsman.

"I spoke plain English, Mr. Henry," Daniel said.

"You have no right," Henry roared. "That would be theft of rightfully owned property. Dr. Cleves this is your property is it not? You have the title in hand? Bring it forth." The lawyer thrust his hand out, palm up, as if expecting immediate obedience.

"Well, Mr. Henry…not exactly," Cleves whined.

Daniel smiled and pulled a packet out of his hunting frock, unsealed it, studied it for a moment then held it up. "I just happen to have the title here in my hand. It says right here, on this fancy piece of paper, this property and all it contains belongs to one John Murray, 4th Earl of Dunsmore his heirs and assigns. Well, gentlemen, Mingo here is Mr. Murray's son, firstborn to be exact, his rightful heir, and it even lists him right here."

Henry's jaw dropped. "_You_ are the son of that Royal Purveyor of Pernicious Proclamations?"

Mingo couldn't help taking a gander at the paper in Daniel's hand and sure enough he found his name listed as sole heir. He smiled and bowed his head to Mr. Henry to acknowledge the lawyer's accusation.

"Now," Daniel continued, "we can wait here and send a letter to the gentleman--or the royal purveyor…as you may have it--and ask his leave, or you can simply comply with his wishes as they were dictated to me when he handed me this title."

This turn of events begat a warm debate between the radicals. The room veritably exploded with talk. Mr. Henry turned an angry scowl upon Dr. Cleves who slunk down in a nearby chair as if trying to disappear.

There was a muffled chuckle, the voices silenced and all eyes turned to the reserved Washington. "Gentlemen, it seems apparent that we have been bested by our equals. Mr. Boone and Mr. Murray, we are at your mercy." The tall Virginian bowed to the men. "If you would be so kind as to allow us to keep our scalps, and perhaps consider donating the rest of this estate to our fledgling Cause, which we fervently wish to have you both join unfettered and with true hearts, we surrender to your wishes."

Daniel grinned and glanced askance at Mingo who couldn't keep from smiling at the turn of events. "General Washington, I shall confer with Mr. Murray as to his wishes for the disposition of his property, but I believe that can be arranged."

* * *

Yadkin opened his eyes but squeezed them shut quickly. He was sure he was in one of those nightmares where Shawnee warriors hover over his dead body with hatchets and knives. Opening his eyes a slit, he shook his disheveled head, but the Shawnee didn't go away. They stood about the bed and were trying to lift him from it with warm hands. He thought that must mean that he and they were alive or at least it would be best to assume so. He kicked and struggled with the warriors. As loud as his lungs would allow, he bellowed like a bull, "'Natus! 'Natus! Shawnee! Shawnee have me!"

The bewhiskered Cincinnatus ran into the room. "Hush up, Yad, you're goin' to upset the whole town."

The warriors gave up on the struggling man in the bed and fell to laughing, which didn't make Yadkin feel any better.

"Well maybe it needs upsettin', 'Natus, if they're lettin' laughin' Shawnee just walk in on a fella and carry him off."

Daniel stuck his head in the door, grinning. "Yadkin these gentlemen are just going to put you in a wagon out here so we can tote you and the gold home. You're a heavy fella. It takes twelve Indians to lift ya."

"You got the gold? These fellas give it back?"

"Yes, we have the gold, but no these fellas weren't the Shawnee that took it, but they are our pass home, so be nice."

Daniel's head disappeared.

"Be nice to Shaw-NEE?"

Mingo stepped through the door smiling. "I believe that is what Daniel said, Yadkin. Are you going to do what he asks this time?"

"Ahh." Yadkin blew a puff of frustrated air out from his cheeks. "'Natus, did the whole world turn up-side-down while I was knocked-out?"

"Peers so, Yad. We are now at war and the Shawnee are our friends. Beats the tar out of me how that happened, but I'm not goin' to argue with it 'till I get home. Dan'l and Mingo seem quite comfortable with these fellers so I reckon we gotta follow suit. There's bed o' hay all ready for you on that wagon Dan'l hired out there. You wanta go home or not?"

"I reckon." Yadkin took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He lay back and put his arms close to his long body and his legs together then closed his eyes and gave up his sinful soul to Providence. "All right, take me away, boys."

The bronze-skinned young Shawnee grinned at each other as they lifted the brawny blond-haired man from the bed and carried him out coffin style to the waiting wagon. After he was deposited on the hay, Daniel said, "Yad, you can open your eyes now. You comfortable there?"

The convalescent looked up at Daniel's grinning face. "Just fine, Dan'l." He surveyed the scene around the wagon and saw the many Shawnee milling about and the chief, Cornstalk, talking to Mingo. "I sure hope you know what you're doin'."

"I reckon we'll know when we get through the pass unmolested."

"Is Breeden still out there?"

"Nope. He's on his way to England to be tried for his crimes along with his co-conspirator, and your good friend, Major Halpen."

"You trustin' the British to hang that thievin' lyin' murderin' yahoo?"

Daniel didn't answer.

"Well I'm sorry, Dan'l," Yad grumbled, "you must a-been plumb worn out from your walk when you got to that part."

The coonskin-capped man laughed. "Yad, are you doubtin' my judgment again?"

"Now Dan'l, I know I done a foolish thing gettin' shot, turnin' my back on the enemy and all--"

"Whoa. That reminds me." Daniel bent over the wagon and grabbed Yadkin by the thick tuff of curly blond hair on his head. "Carolina E. Yadkin you listen to me good--you --you--wild-cat walkin' on two legs! Don't you ever do a stupid fool thing like that again!" He popped Yad's head back on the hay making him dizzy.

Cincinnatus hopped up on the wagon seat, grabbed the reins, and released the wheel brake with his foot. "That's tellin' him, Dan'l. Won't do no good, though."

Mingo jauntily strolled up smiling. "Are we ready to go? I asked around town and everyone that has been through the pass lately said there was no Shawnee sign. A trapper said he just came from Boonesborough and all is calm there as well."

"I've got one more feller I'm worried about, Mingo."

"Jericho?"

"Yep. Let's head home."

They crossed the mountains and the great expanse of open empty land that led to the isolated settlement of Boonesborough. Along the way, Daniel and Mingo passed the time relating to Yad and Cincinnatus their adventure in Williamsburg. The friends' hooting and laughter echoed over the hills. Yad pointed out a couple of Shawnee, standing in plain sight on a nearby hill. Apparently, Blackfishes scouts were content to just watch the odd alliance of white and Shawnee go by.

When the fort's gates opened, Becky, Israel, Jemima and Jericho were standing before them. The degree of their apparent anticipation--yelping, crying, hugging each other--reminded the men they had been gone from home for nearly a month.

Daniel kissed Becky for a whole minute then hugged his children. After sneaking a packet of ribbons to Jemima with a wink, he stood before Jericho. "Mr. Jones, I remember tellin' you to put this fort on alert."

"Ah Mr. Boone, I told them but nobody would listen to me. They did what I said for 'bout three days then the wives and husbands started to quarrelin' and the single men started getting' into fights. Why, I was no match for it. I swung the gates open and told 'em the Shawnee could have their sorry scalps I sure wasn't goin' to care no more."

Daniel smiled. He slapped a hand on the boy's cheek and shook his head good-naturedly. "That's all right. We just need to work a mite on your authorative presence."

Jericho stood up straight and puffed out his chest. "My authorative presence?"

"Yep. The one you don't have yet."

"Oh."

"Is that Jericho Jones?" Yad asked from the wagon. He scooted himself up to a seated position and leaned back against the wagon seat.

"Mr. Yadkin, you're alive!" Jericho yelled, staring at the blond frontiersman with astonished wide eyes.

"Why, 'course I is youngin'. It's you that's the holy miracle."

"Yad," Israel hollered as he bounded up into the wagon and into the trapper's strong arms. "I sure have missed you."

"I missed you too, boy. It's good to be home."

Daniel announced to the gathered settlers in the fort, "Folks, this here is Chief Cornstalk. He is a peaceful Shawnee from the north. He and his warriors saw us safely home from Williamsburg with your money."

The crowd cheered.

"I want you to be hospitable to our guests and not too picky about where they sleep or how they eat. Give 'em plenty of victuals. They're on their way home and will be leavin' out tomorrow."

Daniel turned to his wife. "Becky, do you think you could whip up a meal at the cabin for Cornstalk, Mingo and me?"

Becky was petting Yadkin on the head, much to Daniel's consternation. "Why Daniel, I'm surprised at you. What about poor Yad here? Who's goin' to take care of him?"

"Yeah, Pa," Israel said, "What about Yad?"

"Why Cincinnatus and Jericho can give him all the care he needs. They can unload him and the gold from this wagon, too."

"Pa, that's no way to treat Yadkin, he's family," Jemima whined.

Yadkin, bearing his most angelic blue-eyed face, piped up, "Ah now, I don't need no one fussin' over me. I'm all but well. I'll show you and get out o' this wagon myself." He struggled up onto his wobbly long legs.

"Yad, if you fall and break your neck, I'm not liftin' a finger to save ya," Cincinnatus grumbled.

The injured man thought better about it. He got down on his knees and crawled out of the wagon. As he leaned against it to keep from falling, Israel stood behind him on the wagon bed and wrapped his arms around Yad's neck.

"Oh for cryin' out loud," Daniel exclaimed. "All right. Yad can come home with us for a few days."

The children yelped with glee.

"Come on Yad," Mingo said, "lean on me. I'll help you to the cabin."

"Much obliged, Mingo. I can just taste that butter meltin' on Becky's cornbread right now."

"So can I."

"That's about right," mumbled Daniel. "It took twelve Indians to get Yad into the wagon, but only one to get him to Becky's cookin'."

Becky slapped Daniel playfully on his bottom.

"So, Mingo, your pappy done up and left?" Yadkin asked.

"Yes. He was no longer welcome in Williamsburg."

"What's goin' on?"

"You are asking the wrong man, Yad. I don't fully understand it myself."

"We are at war, Yad," Daniel said.

"With the British?"

"Yep."

"You just cain't trust them British."

**The End**


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